Finding Out
by Kara Sullivan
Summary: Prequel, missing scenes and tag to A Very Supernatural Christmas.  Wee!chester fic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all it entails does not belong to me. I make no money from this - it's just for fun!

Finding Out

Chapter 1

One of the first things people noticed about Sam Winchester was that he was a quiet, compliant little boy. The other children in Mrs. Hoffman's third grade class noticed it and immediately labeled him a wimp. The class bullies grinned at the discovery of someone new to torment.

Mrs. Hoffman and the other teachers noticed it and immediately labeled him shy and unusually well-behaved. These perceived qualities immediately endeared the boy to all of his teachers, causing the bullies to add the title of 'Teacher's Pet' to their list of labels.

But Sam Winchester was not a wimp, nor was he particularly shy or unusually well-behaved. What Sam Winchester was . . . was smart.

He was an eight-year-old boy who had spent his entire life moving between a series of ratty motel rooms and the backseat of a black 1967 Chevy Impala. He was the youngest member of a family of over-protective men. Well, technically Dean wasn't actually a man yet, but he _was_ twelve years old, and Dad often left him in charge. And technically Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim weren't really family, but they were definitely over-protective.

Sam was smart enough to know that it wasn't worth the effort to make close friends at school, since he would only leave them behind the next time they moved anyway, so he kept to himself and watched the other kids longingly. He was smart enough to know that Child Protective Services wouldn't like the fact that Sam and Dean often stayed at the motel by themselves while Dad went to work, sometimes for days at a time. So he was compliant and polite in an attempt not to draw unwanted attention to himself. But most of all, Sam was smart enough to know that Dad wasn't really a salesman.

Dad was . . . Dad, and Sam loved him very much, but who would want to buy anything from a tough-as-nails ex-marine? Salesmen were supposed to be cheerful, friendly people who could charm you into believing anything and make you want to buy things. Dean would make an _awesome_ salesman. But _Dad_ . . . well, Dad would probably scare all the business away.

Besides, there were other things that didn't fit. Why didn't Dad ever talk about what he sold? Why did they have to keep moving so much when Dad always left them alone to go to work anyway? At the end of second grade Sam had gone to three schools in less than a month. He knew that wasn't normal. Most of his classmates had lived in the same house their whole lives and had gone to preschool with their current classmates.

And then there was the training. Dad always insisted that Sam and Dean must be ready for any situation, drilling them in physical exercises, emphasizing quickness, speed and agility. But when Sam asked for an example of what type of situation they were training for, Dean and Dad just exchanged meaningful looks and changed the subject.

So Sam was pretty sure that Dad wasn't really a salesman. Besides, what kind of sales job was dangerous? Dad sometimes came home from his "sales" trips beat up or even _cut_ up, needing Dean to put in stitches. They always kept it quiet, but Sam was far from stupid.

And Sam was also smart enough to figure out that Dad's journal was the key to figuring it all out. Whatever he wrote in that book, it was really important and something Sam wasn't supposed to know about. He had asked Dean once, who sternly told him that it was Dad's private stuff and not to touch it. Sam had never asked again, but he just knew that book would answer all of his questions.

Finally, about a week before Christmas, Dad came home from a "sales" trip and stayed home for a few days. Sam hoped that meant he would be home until after Christmas. So far Dad had always made it home for Christmas, but Sam was smart enough to know that this would probably change at some point.

This afternoon the three Winchester men were together at the motel, but each was concentrating on his own project. Dad was cleaning his guns, which again . . . what kind of salesman had a gun collection like that? And for that matter, Sam couldn't imagine too many of the other kids in school having a dad who allowed their twelve-year-old son to keep a gun hidden under his pillow.

Sam wasn't supposed to know about _that_ either, but he and Dean had been sparring in the motel room one snowy afternoon a few weeks ago, and Sam had actually hit his head on it. He hadn't let Dean know that he had found it, though. For some reason, Dean and Dad seemed to think he needed to be protected from the truth, whatever that was.

Dean was actually doing his homework for once, which made Sam proud. Dean didn't like school, but he was really good at it when he tried.

Sam sat cross-legged on his bed reading a book with the strange title _Oliver Twist_ by an old British author. Sam felt sorry for poor Oliver, who was an orphan who lived in a really bad place called a Work House and had no friends, and not even any family. The school librarian had looked at him doubtfully when Sam had taken his turn at the check-out desk on library day.

"Are you sure that's the book you want, young man?" She gestured at a stack of thinner books beside her. "We just got a couple of Beverly Cleary books in. Have you read Henry Huggins yet? Or how about the Ramona books? Oh, and we have some new Boxcar Children books here, too."

Sam thought disgustedly that those books were for babies, but he merely looked back at her solemnly. "No, ma'am, this is the one I want, please."

So Sam was engrossed in his book while Dean did his homework and Dad cleaned his guns. The only background noise was a re-run of I Love Lucy on the little motel TV.

Suddenly Dad stood up. "I'm going to change the oil in the Impala. Want to help, Dean?"

Dean jumped at the chance to get out of doing homework and to spend some time with his father, so when Sam next looked up, he was alone in the room. Looking out the window of the motel room, he spotted Dad's legs sticking out from beneath the car, and he could see Dean sitting beside the Impala, laughing at something Dad must have said. A pang of hurt went through him momentarily. He wished that he could have a good time with Dad like that, too, but he really had nothing in common with him. He wondered fleetingly if he ever would.

He shrugged and went back to his book, which was turning out to be even more interesting than he had hoped. He wasn't sure how long he had been reading when a muffled voice from outside caught his attention. "Sam!"

He put the book down and walked over to the door, opening it and shivering in the chilly wind. "Yes, Sir?"

John was sitting up beside the car now also, and he held his blackened hands up with a grin. "Sam, there's a pile of clean rags in my duffel. I want you to bring two of them out here." He smiled over at Dean, who also grinned and held up his dirty appendages.

"Yes, Sir." Sam trotted back into the room and unzipped Dad's duffel bag. He was expecting the rags to be on top, but they weren't visible at first glance, so he had to dig down the side to find them. As he pulled them out, his hand snagged on the corner of something in the bag, and he pulled it out along with the rags. He stared at his find blankly for a minute, thinking furiously. Dad's journal. Right here in front of him. And nobody else was here.

He quickly laced up his sneakers and put on his coat, running the rags outside to his dirty family. John nodded, already deep in conversation with his eldest, but Dean took a moment to smile at Sam and say thanks. The younger boy managed a semblance of a smile back and headed inside to where temptation was waiting for him.

Taking off his coat and sneakers, he crouched down in front of Dad's duffel. His heart pounded as he wondered what he should do. Well, he knew what he should _really_ do (_Put it back_), but he wondered what he _would_ do. He could read it right now and put it back, and nobody would ever know.

He picked the leather-bound journal up and turned it over reverently in his hands. He had just decided that this was his best option when the door knob rattled, and he heard his father's voice just outside the room.

"I'll go get your brother, and then we can go and get some dinner. Good job, Dean."

Two feelings battled for dominance in Sam's heart at that moment. The first was fear. He was terrified of what John would do if he found his son looking through his personal things, particularly his precious journal. He wanted to get rid of the journal just to keep from getting caught. But the second feeling was stronger. John's praise of Dean twisted Sam's heart. Dad never said things like that to Sam. He couldn't ever do anything right, not really, not like Dean. Bitterness filled his young heart, and in that moment his mind was made up.

Sam zipped the duffel closed and stuffed the journal beneath his mattress to read later. He was going to find out what Dad had been hiding from him.

tbc . . .

_A/N While I have been reading Supernatural Fanfiction for 5 years, this is my first effort with writing one. (I usually restrict my writing to The Sentinel.) This plot line came to me while on an eight hour flight, and it wouldn't leave me alone. Feedback appreciated!_

_And for the record, I have nothing against Beverly Cleary or the Boxcar Children books. I loved the Beverly Cleary books as a child, and my niece loves the Boxcar Children. They are just not anywhere near the reading level of Oliver Twist!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - Thanks to everyone for reading my first attempt at **Supernatural** fan-fiction. I wasn't sure what kind of reception I would get, having only ventured into **The Sentinel **fandom before. Special thanks to all those who commented or set the story up on alerts or as a favorite! _

_Disclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 2_

Sam had barely tucked the journal beneath his mattress when the door creaked open and Dad stepped in, still smiling over his shoulder at Dean. He turned as Sam sat up straight, trying not to look guilty.

"Hey, Sammy. Wanna get your coat and shoes back on? Your brother and I have worked up quite an appetite, and we're ready to head out for some chow." He stepped into the bathroom and properly scrubbed his hands.

"Yes, Sir." Sam felt like a parrot. Those were the only words he had said this afternoon, over and over. He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as he pulled his shoes back on and zipped up his coat.

Dean sauntered into the room, still swiping at his grimy hands with the rag. He smiled at his little brother. After an afternoon of one-on-one attention from Dad, Dean was always in a good mood. "Hey, Geek Boy. How's your book?" He faked a snore and then laughed uproariously at his own wit.

Sam rolled his eyes, feeling a little less terror as nobody mentioned the journal. "It's fine." He didn't bother to mention any details about the book, because as much as Dad and Dean loved him, they didn't understand the things he liked to do.

Fifteen minutes later, the three Winchester men were in the Impala, heading for dinner in a companionable silence, broken only by the _Metallica_ song playing softly from the car stereo. Sam's heart had slowed, but he was overwhelmed with guilt. Could he really do this? What if he got caught? He swallowed hard. But he really wanted to know, and he knew that Dad and Dean weren't about to tell him. He _needed_ to do this.

Dinner was a quiet affair, Dad and Dean too hungry to talk much, and Sam spent most of his meal pushing his dinner around on his plate miserably. Fortunately, neither of his companions noticed his lack of appetite. The diner they had been patronizing this week had the best pie around, and Dad let each of them have a slice. Sam forced his down, knowing this would be easier to notice if he didn't eat it.

They had almost finished dinner, and Dad was sipping contentedly at a cup of coffee while Dean grinned slyly at a blushing teen-aged girl a few tables over. Sam sat placidly beside his brother, seeming completely relaxed and at ease, but inside he couldn't wait to get back to the motel so he could try to get a look at the journal. He had to fight to keep from squirming in his agitation.

Dad leaned back with a contented smile. "It'll be nice to be home while you boys are out of school for Christmas break."

Dean grinned back, pulling his attention back from the girl he had been eyeing across the room. "Yes, Sir. We're looking forward to it, aren't we Sammy?"

Sam nodded, hoping his smile didn't look as sickly as if felt. "Yes, Sir." He wondered if anyone else had noticed that these were the only words he had said in the past few hours.

Dad stood up decisively. "Well, let's get back to the room. I have some paperwork I need to work on." He strode up to the counter and paid their bill, then ushered his two boys back to the Impala to start the short trek back to the motel.

Sam sat in his usual spot in the back seat, trying to slow his breathing. If Dad had paperwork to work on, he was probably going to need to get it out of his duffel. He was so dead.

When they arrived back at the room, Sam went back to his book, although he had no idea what he was reading, while Dean flipped on the television, searching for something to watch. Dad headed for his duffel, and Sam's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He just knew Dad was going for his journal, and he would find it missing.

The ringing telephone made him jump, but he breathed a sigh of relief when Dad changed directions and headed to the night stand to pick it up. "Hello?"

Sam listened intently to the conversation, always looking for a clue, but Dad's eyes narrowed in his direction, and he cleared his throat subtly.

It seemed almost coincidental when Dean casually glanced up at his little brother with a lazy grin. "Hey, Sammy. Grab your coat." He picked up his football from the floor beside his bed. "Let's go work off some energy before bed, huh?"

Sam subdued the urge to roll his eyes as he obediently put on his coat. He was smart enough to know when he was being distracted so he wouldn't overhear something. Wondering when he would be caught, he slouched out the door behind Dean. If Dean noticed that his little brother was being more quiet than usual, he didn't say anything.

The two tossed the football back and forth in silence for a few minutes, neither boy seeming to be having an exceptionally good time, and then Dean grinned mischievously. "Go out for a long one, Sam!" He reared back and hurled the football across the parking lot, where it bounced once and then disappeared into the woods.

Sam forgot his terror of being caught long enough to let his anger burn at his brother's juvenile display. "Thanks a lot, Dean."

He trotted across the parking lot after the football, but it wasn't in sight. With a dramatic sigh, he plunged into the bushes and grass at the edge of the woods to start looking for the football. When he looked up, Dean was on his way over to help him, but the opening door distracted both boys.

"Dean," Dad called from the doorway. "Let your brother get it. I need to talk to you for a minute."

Dean changed course and headed for the room at a jog, glancing apologetically over his shoulder at his little brother. "Sorry, Sammy."

Sam sighed again, not really surprised that he was looking by himself. No doubt Dad wanted to talk to Dean about whatever secret thing the phone call had been about. Or . . . . wait! Maybe he had discovered his journal was missing and wanted Dean to help him look for it. Or maybe he _knew_ Sam had taken it and wanted to talk it over with Dean before punishing him. Or maybe . . .

"Sammy, come on in now. We can find it in the morning when it's lighter out." Dean was in the doorway now, his good mood from earlier gone.

Sam dragged his feet as he headed back for the room. His heart pounded so loud he thought he could hear it. What was going to happen when he made it into the room?

He reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside, his gaze immediately going to the duffel beside Dad's bed. But the duffel was now _on_ Dad's bed, and Sam's heartbeat quickened. Then Dad came in from the bathroom and shoved a few things into the top of it and zipped it closed.

"Sammy, I have to go out of town for a few days." Dad looked at him sternly for a minute, then turned and pulled on his leather jacket. "You mind your brother while I'm gone, and be good."

"But what about Christmas?" Sam protested, his heart dropping. This was even _worse _than Dad finding out about the journal. He wasn't even going to be there with them for Christmas.

"Don't you worry about Christmas, Sam. I'll be back by then. I'll only be gone a day or two." Dad picked up his duffel and headed for the door, ruffling Sam's hair on his way by. "Are you listening to me? You be good and listen to your brother."

"Yes, Sir." Sam stood dejectedly in the doorway beside Dean, watching as Dad got into the Impala and started the engine. He kept watching silently as the car backed out of their parking spot and Dad waved as he left the parking lot. Then he turned and followed Dean back into the motel room, heels dragging with each step.

_TBC_

_Thanks again for reading! I originally intended this story to be told in two chapters, but it has taken on a life of its own! I am currently intending it to be three or four chapters. I will try to get the next one out sooner. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter posted. I meant to have the story done weeks ago. But the best laid plans, and all that. I had a little bit of writer's block on this chapter, but hopefully that's all over now! The season premier inspired me to finish the chapter. There is still at least one chapter left, maybe two. It depends on how the next one goes! Thanks again to all of you for taking the time to read, alert and add as favorite! I'm really having fun writing this. _

_Disclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 3_

The first few days after Dad left weren't too bad. Both boys still had school, and Sam kept busy with his homework and planning what he was going to give Dean for Christmas. Uncle Bobby had given him a really cool necklace that he called an "am-you-let" to give to Dad. Sam had never heard of an "am-you-let" before, but Uncle Bobby had told Sam that Dad would really like it, and that it was very special, although he didn't say why. So Sam was excited about giving his father his present this year. Usually he just had baby stuff to give him, like ornaments he had made in school or something lame like that.

He thought about the journal and wanted to pull it out to read it, but Dean never seemed to be far away, and Sam was afraid he would be caught. So he concentrated instead on keeping busy, trying to keep his mind off of it. Unfortunately, the harder he tried to ignore it, the more he thought about it. Dean didn't notice, or if he did he never called his brother on it.

Then the weekend came and Dad still wasn't back. It wasn't quite so easy to keep busy, but Sam tried. There were Christmas specials on every channel, and the boys watched quite a few of them, interspersed with a trip to the store to get some food and a snowball fight in the park down the street. Sam had finished Oliver Twist on Friday night, so he didn't even have a book to read.

By Sunday afternoon, Sam was about ready to explode, wanting Dad to come home, but wanting to read the journal more. He wished something would happen . . .anything! He slumped down in front of the television, acutely aware of the book just feet away from him. If only he could be alone. Or if only Dad would come home. Or something. His black thoughts were interrupted by his coat hitting him in the face.

He jerked, startled, and glared at Dean. "What'd you do that for? You could put somebody's eye out doing that!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You are such a _girl_! Come on, Princess. Put your coat on. We're going on a field trip."

Sam automatically did as he was told, standing up and putting on his coat. As he zipped it up, he turned quizzical eyes on his brother. "Where are we going?"

Dean grinned. "I know you finished your book, you little geek. We're going to the library. Let's see if we can get you a new book."

This was an unheard of treat. Dad usually didn't let the boys wander around town while he was gone, and libraries didn't seem too high priority to him. Sam decided not to ask too many questions. As Uncle Bobby was fond of saying, "Get while the gettin's good!" He wasn't exactly sure he knew what that meant, but he thought it might be something about doing something while you had the chance.

He followed Dean from the motel room and walked quietly beside him as they headed toward the town library. Sam wasn't sure how they were going to get a library book without an adult to sign them up for a library card, but Dean seemed to be able to do anything he put his mind to, so Sam was sure he would figure something out. They walked up the steps to the library and went inside.

Dean turned to Sam with a grin. "Okay, go find a book, Sammy. I'm going to sit over here." He pointed to the periodical section.

Sam nodded and turned to take stock of the library. He spotted the children's section and quickly headed for the treasures contained on the shelves. The library was not overly large, so he didn't have as many books as he would have liked to choose from, but he quickly eliminated the picture books and the chapter books that his classmates favored. He wanted something that was going to last a while.

He was carefully examining a shelf labeled Young Adult when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked around guiltily to find an older woman standing there.

"Young man, I'm sorry to startle you, but I just wanted to let you know that we close in twenty minutes. On Sundays we are only open until three o'clock."

Sam smiled politely and nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

The librarian beamed at Sam's good manners and headed off to warn the few other patrons still perusing the books. Sam turned back to his shelf and quickly grabbed one of the books he had been considering from the shelf. Turning away to meet Dean, he stopped and thoughtfully chose another one. Maybe Dean would let him get _two_ books.

Holding his bounty tight in his arms, he headed back to the periodical section to get his brother and see how they were going to check out the books. Dean was sitting at a table leafing idly through a Popular Mechanics magazine. There were a few other magazines strewn around the table in front of him, most of them bearing pictures of cars on the front. Dean looked up at Sam's approach.

"Hey, Sammy. How'd you do? Did you find anything?"

Sam nodded, holding out his choices. "Can I get two?"

Dean grinned. "Sure. That should keep you quiet for a while."

Sam beamed at his brother. "Thank you! But the lady told me the library is closing soon."

Dean carefully piled his magazines back on the table and stood up. "I know. It's all part of my plan. Follow me."

Sam followed his brother to the front desk to stand in line behind a few other stragglers that were still checking their books out. He recognized the look on his brother's face. Dean was up to something. The two boys stood patiently in line, but by the time they reached the desk, the clock on the wall read three o'clock.

The librarian that waited for them was not the one who had warned Sam about the time. This one was an even older woman with a nice smile. She turned that smile on them now as she reached patiently for Sam's books. "May I have your library card, young man?"

Sam was about to open his mouth to reply that he didn't have one when Dean squeezed his arm and stepped in. "Ma'am, we don't have one yet. We just moved into the area and I was hoping you could help us with that." He turned his best smile on the woman.

As was the case with most people when Dean was at his most charming, the librarian smiled back. "Of course we can. Is your mother or father here with you?"

Dean shook his head regretfully. "No, Ma'am. Our father is out of town, and our mother wasn't feeling up to coming with us today. She was hoping that this would be enough for you to give us the card." He reached into his pocket and produced a wrinkled envelope.

Sam wondered what Dean was up to when the librarian took the envelope and opened it to reveal an electric bill with a local address and the name Michael Peters on it. This wasn't a very big town, and he wondered how Dean thought the librarian wouldn't know that they didn't belong to this Michael Peters.

But the woman peered at the bill through her bifocals and then smiled widely at the boys. "Why yes, of course I can use this! I had heard about your family moving into town, but I hadn't had a chance to stop by to introduce myself to your parents yet. What name should I put on the card?"

"You can put it in my name," Dean said, smiling. "I'm Michael Peters, too. Junior. This is my little brother Carl."

As the librarian carefully printed the name on Dean's brand new library card, she looked at the books on the counter. "Oh and these are wonderful choices of books, Michael. I'm sure you'll love them." She looked at the boys conspiratorially. "I'm not really supposed to set up cards for minors without a guardian, but you boys both seem like very trustworthy young men."

Sam squirmed uncomfortably at this, but Dean beamed at the woman. "Thank you, Ma'am. I'll make sure to tell our parents how helpful you were."

"There you go, boys. Here's your card, and your books will be due back in a week." She handed the new card and Sam's books to Dean, then looked up at the clock. "Oh, goodness, I wonder if Brenda locked the door. You boys had better head on home now."

Dean clutched the books and headed for the door, Sam at his heels. Once they got outside, Dean chuckled. "So let's see, Carl. What books am I going to be reading today?" He quickly glanced at the titles and handed the books to Sam. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Black Stallion. Yeah, those sound more like your speed, Carl. Boring!"

Sam walked quickly to keep up with his older brother. "How did you do that? How come she didn't know we don't belong to those people?"

Dean grinned, tapping his temple sagely. "Mike Peters is in my class in school. He's new, too. We were talking the other day about the stuff we have in common. His dad travels a lot, too, and he has a little brother Carl. But his mom just had another baby and she's too tired to do stuff with him. I walk past their house on the way home from school. I just borrowed their electric bill from their mailbox because I knew they would ask for a utility bill. I figured if we waited until closing to go up to the checkout counter they would be in a hurry and would want to take care of us as soon as possible. And I was right! Come on, let's go back home. You can start reading your books. I want to watch the football game."

Sam shook his head, following his brother back to the motel. He knew they probably wouldn't be staying very long when Dad got back, so maybe they could get away with it. He sure hoped so. He didn't know if you could get in a lot of trouble for impersonating somebody else at the library. At least he would take good care of the books.

They got back to the motel in record time, and Sam immediately settled on his bed and began to read The Black Stallion. Dean turned the television on and tuned it to the game, slouching comfortably on the couch with a bag of chips and a soda. The shadows lengthened as the day progressed, and when Sam looked up again it was already getting dark out. The book had quickly captured his attention, about a young boy who had been marooned on an island with only a wild black stallion as a companion. It all sounded very exciting to Sam.

He turned his attention back to his book, interrupted again when the phone rang. Dean jumped up from the floor and both boys stared at the phone anxiously. It rang three times and then stopped. A moment later, it rang again. Dean relaxed and eagerly grabbed the receiver. That was the code they had worked out with Dad.

"Hey, Dad!" Dean exclaimed. He listened silently for a moment, his shoulders suddenly drooping. "Yes, sir, we're okay. Yes, sir, I'll tell him. Goodbye."

Sam watched him impatiently. "Well, what did he say? Is he on his way home?"

Dean slumped down onto the foot of Sam's bed. "No, Sammy. His job is taking longer than he thought, and he won't be back for a few more days. He promised he'll be back by Christmas though. He says hi."

Sam looked back at his book through eyes brimming with tears. Who would want to buy whatever it was that Dad was supposedly selling a few days before Christmas? Why wouldn't Dad and Dean tell him what was really going on? He glanced back at the bottom of his bed where the journal was tucked. He really needed to read that book!

_TBC_

_Thanks again for reading! I hope to get the next chapter out MUCH quicker! _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N This story just keeps writing itself! I had not intended to write this chapter, but here it is. There are STILL one or two chapters left until the end. Thanks again to everyone for continuing to read this, especially to those who have reviewed, added to favorites or set alerts. You have all been very encouraging! _

_Disclaimer in Chapter 1_

_Chapter 4_

The rest of Sunday seemed like it would never end, and by nine o'clock both boys were ready to call it a night. Sam quietly got into his sweats and a t-shirt and crawled into his bed, turning his back to his brother.

"It'll be okay, Sammy. You'll see. He'll be here."

Sam didn't acknowledge his brother, too upset to pretend otherwise. He knew if he said anything, he would embarrass himself by letting out the tears that were far too close to the surface. If there was one thing that he knew, it was that tears were not tolerated in this family. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to think he was a baby. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

He must have been more tired than he thought, because the next time he opened his eyes it was morning, and Dean was moving quietly around the room getting ready for school. He sat up, rubbing his eyes groggily. "What time is it?"

Dean grinned. "Time to get out of bed, you lazy bum. You don't want to be late for school on our last day before Christmas break, do you?"

Sam grumbled half heartedly as he crawled out of bed, stretching with a yawn. He staggered into the bathroom to wash up, putting on the clothes Dean had laid out for him on the counter. He quickly ate the bowl of cereal Dean had set out for him and then grabbed his book bag, heading for the door.

Dean looked at him critically. "Dude. Did you brush your teeth? And run a comb through that mop on your head."

Sam rolled his eyes, heading back for the bathroom. Dean was so bossy sometimes. Who was going to care if his hair was a little messy anyway? He did as he was told, though, quickly brushing his teeth and swiping a wet comb through his hair. Dropping the comb haphazardly onto the counter, he rejoined his brother in the room and struggled into his coat. Dean handed him a plastic bag to take to school. Sam peered into the bag and saw that it contained a neat stack of Christmas cards, one for each kid in his class, and the present that he and Dean had carefully wrapped for Mrs. Hoffman the other day. At the bottom of the bag was a plastic container of sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles that the boys had picked up at the store on their food run on Saturday. This would be Sam's contribution to the third grade Christmas party.

"Ready?" Dean waited for Sam's nod and then led the way out to the parking lot. The two boys always walked to school together even though Dean had to continue on to the middle school once he saw Sam safely to the elementary school playground. Sam headed off to join the other kids, waving at Dean as he continued on to his own school.

Sam settled onto the ground near the front door, waiting for the bell to ring so they could go inside. He knew it would make Dean and Dad happy if he would join in and play with the other kids, but he mostly preferred to just watch. Pastor Jim had called him a "people watcher" once, and said it would help him to understand why people behaved the way they did and was a good use of his time.

Now he watched some of the kids running around playing tag, then turned his attention to another group of children who were climbing on the "jungle gym". That actually kind of looked fun, but before he had time to join them the bell rang, and he picked up his book bag and got in line with the other children, ready to start the day.

He had thought the day would go quickly since he knew a good part of the afternoon was going to involve the Christmas party with cupcakes and cookies (and probably candy) and exchanging cards and maybe even little presents and everything. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated how anxious he was to get home to see if Dad had arrived. Instead of going quickly, the day dragged on even slower than yesterday. Sam was beginning to wonder if it would ever end when the teacher finally dismissed the children for the Christmas break. Carrying a bag full of goodies from the party, he headed for the playground where he knew Dean would be waiting for him.

Dean was leaning up against the jungle gym watching the smaller children as they located their correct buses and got on or headed for warmed cars and waiting parents. He straightened as soon as he saw Sam and tried to act nonchalant, but Sam had seen the longing in his brother's eyes and knew he wasn't the only one wishing Dad was home.

He didn't mention it though and instead launched into an animated account of one of the boys' antics at the Christmas party. Dean listened attentively, laughing at the appropriate spots and gratefully accepted Sam's offering of half the goodies in his bag. When the boys reached the motel, Dean suggested another snowball fight in the park, and Sam quickly agreed as soon as he realized Dad still wasn't back.

The boys stayed in the park until their faces were red with cold and the sun was starting to set and then headed back to the motel. Sam suspected that Dean hadn't really enjoyed their games any more than _he_ had, although he did appreciate the effort his brother had put into making the time pass more quickly.

Back in the room, the boys ate a supper of cold pizza, and Sam went back to his book. He was still reading The Black Stallion, and he wondered idly if he would have read the whole book by the time Dad got home. Dean turned the television on, trying to find something interesting to watch. The hours out in the cold and activity had tired both boys out, however, and when Dean suggested going to bed early again, Sam eagerly jumped at the idea.

The brothers quietly changed for bed, and Sam crawled under the covers and watched idly as Dean checked the room as he did every night. Sam wasn't sure what he was checking it for, because whenever he asked either Dean or Dad they just said they were making sure it was safe. Sam wasn't sure how pouring salt on window sills and in doorways would keep anyone safe, but they had been doing it his whole life, so he was used to the strange ritual.

Dean finished preparing the room and climbed under his own covers, turning out the light between the beds. "Goodnight, Sammy."

"'Night, Dean." Sam rolled over onto his side, wearily closing his eyes. He suddenly opened them again as he realized in surprise that he hadn't thought about Dad's journal all day. He was too busy missing Dad. He thought about it now, though. He wondered if Dad had noticed it was gone yet. He didn't even care right now as long as Dad came home soon.

He hoped it wouldn't take long to get to sleep tonight. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he would wake up, and Dad _had_ to be back tomorrow. He had said he would be back by Christmas, and tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

_TBC_

_We're finally just about up to the actual episode. Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than the others, but I don't even know where it came from! I hope to keep on this "roll" I'm on and get cracking on chapter 5 tomorrow! _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N Special thanks to my brand new beta, Cynbad3! Any mistakes are mine. This chapter contains some dialogue straight out of A Very Supernatural Christmas. Thanks again for Continuing to read, especially to those who have reviewed or set up on alert or favorite! I greatly appreciate it!_

_Disclaimer in chapter 1._

_Chapter 5_

When Sam woke on Tuesday morning it was still dark out. He wondered groggily why he had woken up so early, but when he squinted at the alarm clock he realized it was actually after nine. He sat up, stretching sleepily, and looked out the window. Oh. It was snowing again. That would definitely explain why it was still so dark. From the looks of it, the snow was coming down pretty good.

"Rise and shine, Sammy." Dean was sprawled on the sofa watching television, but he grinned at his little brother. "It's Christmas Eve and it's snowing! What more could a kid want?"

"My dad," Sam grumbled, slowly crawling out of his bed. As he stumbled sleepily toward the sofa and plopped down beside his brother, he felt a twinge of guilt as Dean's smile dimmed a little. He knew Dean was missing Dad, too, and he guessed it wasn't fair to make him feel worse than he already did.

Dean moved over to make room for his little brother and pushed a package of Oreo cookies and a red soda can toward him. "Eat up, Sam. Breakfast of champions."

Sam smiled, in spite of his best intentions, pulling an Oreo from the package. If Dean was going to make the best of things, well, then Sam could surely do the same. He stuffed a whole cookie in his mouth and grinned at his brother. Dean grinned back. "That's my boy. Have some more." Sam pulled the tab on the top of his soda can and then grabbed another cookie.

The two brothers ate nearly half of the cookies and then took turns showering and getting dressed for the day. When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was staring out into the snow again. Sam watched him for a moment as he stared, lost in thought. As Sam moved toward him, Dean caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and jerked to attention, pasting on a smile.

"My turn?" He grabbed his clean clothes and headed for the bathroom his brother had just vacated. "Dude, you better not have used all the hot water!"

Sam sat on the couch for a few minutes after Dean had closed the door and he heard the water running. He flipped through the channels on the television, but nothing interesting was on. Finally he retreated to his bed and pulled out his book once more. He knew Dean wouldn't be too long, but he could read a little more anyway.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam fifteen minutes later, Sam was completely engrossed in The Black Stallion and never even looked up. He vaguely noticed that his brother had come back into the room, but the story had gotten too good for him to be paying attention. The television got louder, and Sam relaxed as he realized Dean had found something to occupy his time.

Every once in a while, Sam looked out the window, and he started to realize that the snow was a constant. It didn't seem to get any heavier, but it never let up either. Finally he looked back at his brother, who was once more sprawled on the couch.

"Hey, Dean?" He waited until Dean looked up at him to continue. "You don't think the snow will keep Dad from coming back, do you?"

Dean looked a little hesitant before his answer, but then shook his head decisively. "Nah. Dad's the _best_ driver. He won't let a little snow stop him from coming home. He'll be here soon." He glanced wistfully back at the window.

Sam nodded, turning back to his book. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Dean believed all the things he said, or if he was just saying them to make his younger brother feel better. Either way, he trusted his brother, so he continued to read and wait for Dad.

"Hey, Sam?"

Sam looked up and realized that he had been reading for a long time. The only time he had paused was when Dean had handed him a peanut butter sandwich and another soda for lunch. Now Dean looked incredibly bored and was watching him hopefully. Sam sighed. "Snowball fight?"

Dean grinned. "You got that right! Bundle up, Sammy. I don't want you getting sick on Christmas." He pulled his own coat on and headed for the door.

Sam got up and put on his coat and gloves before following his brother out into the cold. He had barely made it outside the room before he ended up with a face full of snow. Spluttering and blinking the cold white crystals out of his eyes furiously, he grabbed a handful of snow and quickly molded it into something vaguely ball-shaped before hurling it back at his brother. Dean's yelp made him grin. It must have been a direct hit.

The two brothers pelted each other with snow and chased each other around until they could no longer stand the cold. But the exercise had done them both good, and they were in much better moods when they returned to the warmth of the motel room. Dean immediately sent Sam to change into dry clothes before doing the same.

Dry and warm, Sam went back to his book, but then he remembered Dad's present. He needed to make sure it was wrapped before his father got home. He pulled it out of his backpack along with the tape he carried in his school supplies, and then looked around for something to wrap it in. The only thing he could find was the comics section of last week's paper, but he supposed that would do.

For some reason, he didn't want Dean to know what he was giving Dad, either. Maybe it was just because of the mystery of Christmas, or more likely it was because Dad and Dean had so many secrets they kept from _him_, but either way, Sam decided to wait until Dean wasn't paying attention to wrap the "am-you-let". He waited patiently while Dean flipped through the channels on the television, finally settling on some lame animated Christmas special. Then Dean lost interest quickly, heading for the window to look out at the snow again.

As soon as he was sure his brother wasn't paying attention, Sam took his supplies to the couch and sank down onto the floor so he could use the seat as a work space. He quickly folded the necklace inside the newspaper so that even if Dean looked, he wouldn't see what it was. And not a moment too soon. Seconds later, Dean glanced over to see what he was doing and frowned.

"What is that?"

Sam pulled a piece of tape off the roll and folded it carefully over the edges of the paper, barely sparing a glance for his big brother. "A present for Dad."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed. "Where'd you get the money? Steal it?"

Sam had expected the third degree from Dean if he spotted what he was doing, so he continued to wrap his present calmly. "No, Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him." He couldn't hide the pride in his voice when he continued. "He said it was real special."

"What is it?"

Sam was expecting this question, too. He could tell Dean's attention was piqued now, especially since the boys had been so bored. Normally he would have immediately shared the excitement of the gift with his brother, maybe even showed it to him. But he was determined to keep this secret until Dad opened the present. If they could keep their secrets, so could he. "A pony."

"Very funny."Dean rolled his eyes and headed for the empty spot on the sofa beside Sam. He picked up a magazine and began to flip through it idly.

Sam watched for a minute, wondering fleetingly how Dean had gotten the magazine out of the library. "Dad's going to be here, right?"

"He'll be here," Dean said firmly.

Sam studied his brother anxiously. Dean seemed firm in his belief in Dad, but it was already getting late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve and no sign of him. Sam was really starting to have his doubts. "It's Christmas."

"He knows . . . and he'll be here. Promise." Dean looked up from his magazine and caught Sam's eyes, promising in more than just words.

Once upon a time, Sam would have believed him. But this year he had started to question everything. He thought fleetingly of Dad's journal. "Where is he, anyway?"

Dean tensed up, although Sam could tell he was trying to act relaxed. "On business."

Sam's temper started to rise. Why would nobody ever give him a straight answer? He deserved to know what was going on in their family. "What kind of business?"

Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye, still pretending to be interested in his magazine. "You know that. He sells stuff."

Sam figured he should probably quit while he was ahead, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. All of the questions he had bottled up inside of him were coming out at once. "What kind of stuff?"

"_Stuff_." Dean huffed in annoyance.

Sam had finished wrapping the present now, and he glared at his brother. "Nobody ever tells me anything."

"Then quit asking." Dean grabbed his magazine and relocated to his bed, brushing the remains of several meals onto the floor.

Sam knew he should stop, because he was obviously getting nowhere, but instead he leaned on the back of the couch facing Dean. Maybe if he just kept asking questions, Dean would either slip up or just answer one honestly out of sheer frustration. "Is Dad a spy?"

"Mm-hmm. He's James Bond." Dean didn't even look up this time.

Sam fired his next question immediately. "Why do we move around so much?"

"Because everywhere we go they get _sick_ of your _face_!"

Sam climbed over the back of the sofa and leaned against it, looking at his brother earnestly. "I'm old enough, Dean. You can tell me the truth."

Dean looked back just as earnestly. "You don't want to know the truth. . . believe me."

Sam could tell that this at least was a truthful answer. He considered his next question carefully, and almost decided not to ask. He had never gotten good reactions when he asked before. Finally he decided that maybe one truthful answer would lead to more, so he spoke hesitantly. "Is that why we never talk about . . Mom?"

He was expecting exasperation and annoyance, but instead he got pure fury. "Shut up! Don't you _ever_ talk about Mom . . _ever_!"

Dean glared at him, making Sam feel about two inches tall. She was his mom, too, wasn't she? Why did Dean and Dad always get so angry when he even mentioned her? Wasn't he part of the family, too? A surge of pain flooded through him, and he watched, stunned, as Dean grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sam tried to keep the panic from his voice, but Dean rarely left him alone by himself and never at night, not since something bad had happened one time a few years ago. Sam couldn't remember what had happened, but he knew Dean was determined it would never happen again, whatever it was. And now he was just leaving?

"Out!" Dean didn't even look back at Sam as he exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam stood staring at the door for a minute after his brother had left, half expecting him to come back and apologize for his outburst. But nothing happened, and all he could see outside was more of the fluffy white stuff coming down past the motel lights. His eyes grew damp, but eight years old was too big to be crying over an argument with his brother. Dad would be mortified. He blinked back the tears and stomped over to his bed angrily. There was more than one way to find out the answers to his questions. It was time to read Dad's journal.

_TBC..._

_Chapter 6 will be coming soon! Thanks again for reading. _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N Sentences in italics are quoted directly from John's journal. Thanks again to my beta Cynbad3! _

_Disclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 6_

Sam turned off the television and then sat down on the edge of his bed and tugged the journal out from under his mattress. Glaring again at the door where Dean had disappeared, he unhooked the clasp on the journal and opened it to the first page. He decided he had better read fast, since there was no telling how long Dean might be gone. He didn't want his brother to walk back in and find him with Dad's book.

As he expected, it was filled with Dad's strong handwriting. The date at the top of the first page read November 6, 1983. Sam had only been six months old then. He started to read, his heart pounding as the first sentence jumped out at him.

_I buried my wife today._

Sam had been right. This book held the answers to all of his questions; he was sure of it now. He continued to read, feeling a little guilty as he read Dad's personal thoughts about Mom's death. But he consoled himself that if they would have just answered his questions, he wouldn't have had to resort to this. He had every right to know what had happened. He read on stubbornly.

_I remember hearing Mary scream, and I ran, but then… everything was calm, for just a second – Sammy was fine – and I was sure I had been hearing things – too many horror movies too late at night._

Sam stopped reading suddenly. He had been there when it happened? What could possibly have happened to his mother that would have reminded Dad of a horror movie? Why did she scream? He read on nervously. Suddenly he didn't like being here in the room all by himself.

_But then there was the blood, and when I looked up, my wife…. _

The rest of that sentence was missing, like Dad couldn't even finish it. Sam wondered what else he had been going to say.

_Half our house is gone, even though the fire burned for only a few hours. Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe – the safe with Mary's old diaries, the boys' savings bonds, what little jewelry we had… all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?_

Sam slammed the journal closed. He didn't want to know any more. Why was there blood? It sounded like Mom had died in a fire, but why was there blood? And why did Dad have to look up to see her? This was too scary. Dean was right; he _didn't_ want to know the truth. But somehow he couldn't stop himself from opening the journal and reading more. He skimmed the next several pages, thinking surely it couldn't be as scary if he didn't read it all.

He stopped when he found a section about Dean. That couldn't possibly be as scary. Dean would have just been a little boy then. How bad could that be? But then he read Dad's words about Dean not talking or acting like a normal kid, and he felt bad. Even though they had lived a kind of strange life with all the traveling, Sam had always gotten to be a normal kid.

_He never budges from my side – or from his brother. Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he's trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night._

Now Sam felt _really_ bad. Eight years later, Dean was _still_ trying to protect him from whatever was out there. He really should have listened to his brother. And yet, still he read on. The journal seemed to have a magnetic pull, keeping him riveted to Dad's words. Suddenly his blood ran cold. This couldn't be real. It sounded like something out of one of those scary movies that Dean liked to watch. He re-read the words that had jumped out at him.

… _suddenly I'm back to that night, to the blood and the fire and Mary, Mary is on the ceiling, and how did she get on the ceiling… she can't be on the ceiling…_

That definitely explained the part on the first page where Dad was talking about looking up, but how was that even possible? Then another sentence from an entry made a few days later caught his eye, and he closed the journal again, wanting nothing more than to put it right back where he had found it and forget everything he had read. Tears finally spilling over, he tried to forget the words that were now burned into his memory.

_The one thing they did say was that all the evidence points toward the nursery ceiling as the fire's flashpoint._

The fire had started in his nursery. No wonder Dean and Dad didn't want him to ever talk about Mom. He didn't have the right; it was his fault that she was dead. She must have been trying to save him and gotten killed somehow. But what could have put her on the ceiling? Why was there blood? This was so scary and confusing.

Sam decided to keep reading, but to skip back a little ways. Maybe then it wouldn't be so scary. But when he opened the journal to the middle, he found page after page of scary monsters. Each one had a description of the monster and a hand drawn picture, and then there were sections that listed how to kill it, and some of them had dates and how many Dad said he had killed.

Now he was really confused, because he knew Dad had told him that the monster under his bed wasn't real. Besides, how could there be all these scary things out there and nobody knew about them? This couldn't be real. Maybe Dad was writing a book and when he was done he would sell it, and they could make a movie out of it, or maybe a television show. This couldn't _possibly_ be for real.

He flipped closer to the front again, and he found sections about meeting a lot of people Dad called 'hunters', including Pastor Jim and Uncle Bobby. According to Dad's journal, they both killed these scary monsters, too. Now he _knew_ it couldn't be real. Pastor Jim was the kindest man he knew. And he was a _Pastor_. He couldn't go around killing things. Sam was pretty sure his church would frown on that. And when would Uncle Bobby have time? He was always working hard fixing up cars when they went to visit him.

Sam felt a little better after he decided that it couldn't be real. If it was just for a book Dad was writing, that wasn't so scary. Although he didn't think it was really very good of Dad to make things up about how Mom died. That wasn't nice. And he should really change all the names before he sold it, because otherwise people would know who they really were, and writers _always _changed names in books before they sold them.

Flipping a few pages back in the journal, he found another section that made him stop. It was all about salt. It said a lot of things about how salt was useful for 'hunters', and it even mentioned that spreading it around the doors and windows of a room would keep evil things out. Sam was starting to feel sick now. This part kind of made sense, because why else would Dad and Dean spread salt around their motel room? That had always seemed like a dumb thing to do, but they were very careful to do it every time they went to a new motel, and one or the other of them checked the salt lines every night before bed.

If this part was real, did that mean that all the other parts were real, too? That monsters _were_ real, and Dad and Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim really hunted them? That Mom died in his nursery, somehow stuck on the ceiling and bleeding? Sam shut the journal and snapped the clasp closed before stuffing it back under his mattress. If all this _was_ real, that would also explain why Dad came home beat up or bloody sometimes and why Dean was allowed to keep a gun under his pillow. It was probably so Dean could protect them while Dad was out 'hunting'.

Sam went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face to try and make the tear stains disappear. He didn't want Dean to see them when he got back. But now that he thought about it, he sure wished his brother would come back soon. If all those monsters _were_ out there, Sam didn't want anything to happen to Dean. And what if they came to the room while Dean was still out and got past the salt? Sam wouldn't know how to kill them. He hoped that Dean wasn't too mad at him, and that he remembered soon that he never left Sam by himself at night.

He heard a thump from beyond the side wall and jumped, but then he realized it was just the people in the next motel room moving around. By now he had worked himself up into real terror, his breath coming fast and his heart pounding. He needed to calm down before Dean got back. He didn't want his big brother to think he was a baby. He was just as safe now as he had been before he read the journal.

He grabbed Dean's magazine off his bed and sat down on the sofa. Maybe if he tried to think about something else, that would help. He deliberately took slow, deep breaths, hoping that would help him to calm down. Dean would be back soon, and then everything would be okay. He would take care of Sam, and maybe he could even ask Dean if the book was real. Dean would laugh (after he got over being mad at Sam for taking it) and say of course not, it was just a book Dad was writing, and he would call Sam a baby for thinking it was real. It _had_ to happen that way, because if that book was real, nothing would ever be okay again.

_TBC..._

_Thanks again for reading! I appreciate you all!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N All of the dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from the episode. The other 1300 or so words are mine. :-) _

_Oops! I forgot to thank my wonderful beta, Cynbad3! Sorry, Cyn!_

_Disclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 7_

Sam leafed through Dean's magazine for a few minutes, but cars didn't hold the same interest for him that they did for his brother. He thought about reading his book, but he didn't think he could concentrate on the story right now. He finally gave up and grabbed a comic book from the stack beside Dean's bed. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he couldn't have told which one he picked up if his life depended on it . . . which made him think about monsters and life-threatening situations all over again. He sat back down on the sofa, leaning his back against the arm, and opened the comic book.

Maybe if he could lose himself in the pages of the comic for a little while, Dean would be back and then he could relax. But right now, every noise was still making him jump, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. He thought that maybe he should turn the television back on to cover up the noises, but there were two problems with that idea. The first problem was that maybe he might miss an important noise that would let him know that he needed to run or something. The second problem was that to turn the television back on, he would need to get off the sofa and walk across the floor to the television. He knew it was silly, but he felt safer on the sofa. He tried to take deep breaths and stay calm.

A thump at the door made him jump, but then the doorknob turned, and his brother walked in. Sam relaxed instantly but didn't want to show Dean how scared he had been. The best way to cover up his fear was with an attack. He glared at his brother, throwing the comic book on the couch. "I thought you went out."

Dean was carrying a bag from the convenience store up the street. He pulled a smaller bag out of it and tossed it at Sam. "Yeah, to get you dinner." He tossed a bag of Funyuns to him, smirking. "Don't forget your vegetables."

Dean continued on to his bed and set the bag down so he could take off his coat. Sam left his 'dinner' on the sofa and headed over to his own bed with his comic book. He sat there for a minute watching as Dean pulled a soda can out of the bag and popped the top. Sam was still trying to decide what to say. His heart was still pounding, but he just _knew_ Dean would fix everything. There would be a logical explanation for everything he had read and then they would laugh together at his silly ideas. But before they could get to that point, he had to let Dean know what he had done. He finally just blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "I know why you keep a gun under your pillow."

Dean looked startled for a minute and turned to his pillow, lifting it to make sure the gun was still there. Seeing that it was where it belonged, he glared at Sam. "No, you don't . . . and stay out of my stuff."

More than anything, Sam hated to have Dean angry with him, so he wished he could just drop it. But he needed to keep going. "_And_ I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go."

Now Dean looked really angry. "No, you don't! Shut up."

Sam cringed inwardly at what he was about to do, but he had known when he took the journal that he was not going to be able to keep it a secret forever. He stretched across his bed and tugged the book from under his mattress. Sitting back up, he showed it defiantly to his brother before tossing it onto the night stand between the two beds.

As he had expected, Dean erupted from his bed at that, demanding to know where Sam had gotten Dad's book and reminding him of how much trouble he was going to be in. Sam knew all that already. He just didn't care until he found out the answer to his most burning question. He kept his fierce gaze on his brother and leaned forward, ignoring Dean's outburst. "Are monsters real?"

For a few seconds, Dean looked panic stricken, but then his expression hardened and he scoffed at his brother. "What? You're crazy!"

But Dean and Sam had been inseparable for most of the past eight years, and Sam could read his brother like a book. Dean was wearing the same expression he had worn when he talked to the librarian. He was _lying_. Now Sam was starting to feel a little sick, but he kept his eyes on his brother, forcing himself to continue. "Tell me."

Dean bit his lip, looking hesitant, like he couldn't decide what to do. He looked over at the journal and then back to Sam. Finally, he glared fiercely at Sam, his mind made up. "I swear, if you ever tell Dad I told you _any_ of this I will _end_ you!"

Sam's heart pounded faster. He was finally going to find out the truth. "Promise."

Dean sat down on the bed, setting his soda can on the night stand. Sam thought he seemed relieved now that he had decided to tell him. Dean leaned forward, glancing once again at the journal and then making eye contact with his little brother. "First thing you have to know is we have the coolest Dad in the world. He's a super hero!"

That was the last thing Sam had been expecting his brother to say. It didn't seem to have anything to do with the journal or monsters. "He is?"

"Yeah." Dean took a deep breath. "Monsters _are_ real. Dad fights them. He's fighting them right now."

Sam's head was reeling from this announcement. He leaned forward too, mirroring his brother. He felt like his mind was trying to think of too many things at once. "But Dad said the monsters under my bed _weren't_ real."

Dean grinned a little at that. "That's because he'd already checked under there." He paused for a moment, watching Sam's reaction carefully. "Yeah, they're real. Almost everything's real."

Sam thought about that for a moment, then asked if Santa was real, not overly surprised at Dean's negative answer. He had more important things to think about. He had been expecting a logical explanation, and instead apparently the journal was real. Which meant that all those hideous scary monsters in it were real, too? His eyes widened as his fear grew again. "If monsters are real, then they can get us. They can get _me_!"

Dean shifted seamlessly into what Sam called 'big brother mode'. His face was calm and reassuring, and he spoke soothingly. "Dad's not going to let them get you."

Sam wasn't ready to be soothed, however. "But what if they get _him_?"

Dean continued seriously. "They aren't going to get Dad. Dad's like . . . the _best_."

Even in his fear, Sam could hear the hero worship in his brother's voice. But he had read too much of that journal. "I read in Dad's book that they got Mom." It was the first time in his life he had ever spoken of his mother so naturally, and it seemed a little crazy that it was in reference to being killed by monsters.

Dean looked away. "It's complicated, Sam."

But Sam wasn't done with his line of thinking. "If they got Mom, then they can get Dad. And if they get Dad, they can get _us_!" By now he was terrified.

Dean must have realized that, because he stood up and moved over to Sam's bed, sitting reassuringly close to his little brother. "It's not like that. Okay? Dad's fine, we're fine. Trust me." He watched Sam's face anxiously for a moment. "Are you okay?"

Sam wasn't sure he would ever be okay again. Everything he had believed and been told his whole life had been a complete lie. Now he felt vulnerable, scared and _lied to_. But Dean had told him the truth when he asked, so he didn't want to take it out on him. So instead he told his own lie. "Yeah."

He suspected Dean could see right through him, though, because his brother continued after a pause. "Dad's going to be here for Christmas, just like he always is."

Sam was so upset about the revelations in the journal and what Dean had just told him, he wasn't sure he even cared if Dad made it home for Christmas. Although . . . that would mean an extra person who could keep him safe. He didn't even want to think about this anymore. "I just want to go to sleep, okay?"

He turned away from Dean before the embarrassing tears came, curling on his side on his bed. He vaguely heard his brother agree, but he wasn't really paying much attention to Dean anymore. He was trying to be a man about this, but it was just too much. A sob escaped him as tears overflowed his eyes.

Dean wrapped a warm hand around Sam's ankle, trying to make him feel better. "It'll all be better when you wake up. You'll see. Promise."

In that moment, Sam wished he had never taken that journal. Dean had been right. He really _didn't_ want to know. Sam ignored his big brother and cried himself to sleep.

_TBC..._

_Thanks so much for continuing to read this! A special thanks to those who have reviewed, added to alerts or marked as a favorite! You're the best!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Once again, all of the dialogue from this chapter comes directly from the episode. Thanks to my beta, Cynbad3! _

_Disclaimer in chapter 1. _

_Chapter 8_

Sam slept fitfully, too upset about Dean's revelations to completely relax. His sleep was riddled with strange and scary dreams involving the hideous monsters in Dad's journal killing Dad and Dean while he hid under the bed or in the closet. Then the monsters came after him. He was vaguely aware of quiet movements in the room each time he surfaced from his troubled sleep enough to be aware of it, and he was mildly comforted to know that Dean was there looking out for him. At some point he had begun to shiver from the cool air in the room, but then something warm and heavy settled over him, and he sank back into slumber.

It was completely dark out when Dean shook him awake, dark enough for Dean to really need to turn on the bedside lamp. Sam wondered idly when it had been turned off. It had still been on when he fell asleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes groggily. Dean seemed really excited about something, but it took a few seconds for Sam to wake up enough to realize what he was seeing. Behind his brother he could see a soft glow coming from the sitting area of the room. There was a scrawny little Christmas tree standing on the coffee table, wreathed in colorful pastel Christmas lights. Sam sat up, still huddling under the heavy quilt that covered him. So that's what the warm and heavy thing was he had noticed earlier.

Dean was grinning proudly at him, barely containing his excitement. "Dad was here. Look what he brought!"

That brought Sam awake with a start. "Dad was here?" How could he have slept through Dad's return? He didn't think he had been _that_ tired.

Dean's smile dimmed a little, but he nodded. "Yeah. Look at this." He gestured at the brightly wrapped presents under the little tree. "We made a killing!"

Sam was still trying to process how Dad could have come home and left already and he had missed the whole thing. Dean had said Dad _was_ here, not Dad _is _here. That meant he must have dropped off the Christmas stuff and left for another trip already without Sam even seeing him. "Why didn't he wake me up?"

Dean's smile dimmed again. "He _tried_ to . . . like a thousand times!"

Something seemed off about that, but Sam trusted Dean. "He did?"

Dean's smile brightened again. "Yeah." He nodded at the cozy scene on the coffee table. "Did I tell you he would give us Christmas or what? Go on, dive in!"

Sam obediently threw back the heavy quilt and headed for the cheerful sight. Grabbing two of the presents, he sat down on the sofa. Dean vaulted over the arm of the sofa and curled up comfortably next to him to watch. Sam noticed absently that his brother didn't have any presents to open for himself, but maybe he had opened his while Dad was still here. A wave of pain flooded through him at the thought that Dad and Dean had spent more time together without him.

Shrugging off his sadness, he picked up the bigger of the two presents and eagerly ripped the wrappings off of it, glancing at Dean to see his brother's reaction. Dean looked eager and nervous, as if he too was anxious to see what Sam had gotten.

"What is it?" Dean grinned expectantly as Sam finally got the paper off of the box.

Sam was holding a flat, square red box. He studied it in confusion for a second, and then flipped it over, positive that the name on the box must be wrong. But no, the front of the box was covered with clear plastic, giving a very good view of the contents. He tipped it up so Dean could see what was inside. "Sapphire Barbie?"

Strangely, Dean looked panicked for a moment, but then he smirked at his brother. "Dad probably thinks you're a girl."

Sam threw the box on the floor in disgust. "Shut up!"

Dean pointed at the other present on Sam's lap. "Open that one."

Sam fumbled with the wrappings. This one was shaped kind of like a big Tootsie Roll; long, thin and sort of round. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Dean watching, almost looking sick. What was he afraid was in there?

He finally got the paper loose to expose a . . . well, he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe a plastic baton? It was a colorful blue and purple plastic rod with pink caps on each end. Each pink cap had long, sparkly tassels cascading out of it. One thing was for sure, it was definitely _not_ something that Dad would _ever_ buy for one of his sons.

His heart sinking, Sam glared at Dean for a minute in pure frustration. "Dad never showed, did he?"

Dean pasted on his most innocent, convincing look. "Yeah, he did. I swear!"

That expression had convinced a lot of people to do a lot of things, but Sam could see right through it; he knew his brother. And one thing that he knew about his brother was that while he was an expert at lying to others, he could never get anything past Sam. He might make an attempt, but if Sam pressed him, he always caved and told the truth. "Dean, where did you get all this stuff?"

Dean hesitated, obviously trying to think up a good story. Then his shoulders drooped miserably. "The nice house up the block." He looked at Sam with a pathetic attempt at his trademark smirk. "I swear I didn't know they were chick presents."

Sam found his lips curving in an answering smirk, although he really didn't find it funny. He did feel bad for Dean, though. His brother had gone to great lengths to try to make a nice Christmas for him, even though Dad hadn't bothered to even show up this year.

It almost seemed like Dean could read his mind, as he continued, "Look, I'm sure Dad would have been here if he could."

Sam wondered about that for a minute. Dad had said he would be back before Christmas, but obviously Dad was a liar. He had lied about everything else, why not about if he was going to be back in time? And then a thought struck him. "If he's alive."

Dean looked at him sharply. "Don't say that! Of course he's alive. He's Dad!" That seemed to be the only explanation necessary for Dean.

Sam wished he had the faith in their father that his older brother seemed to. What faith he had before had just been shaken by all that he had discovered today. He wasn't even sure he still wanted to give him that cool present Uncle Bobby had given him. In fact, now that he thought about it, he knew that he didn't want Dad to have such a great present. _Dean_ was the one who looked after him. _Dean_ had tried his hardest to give his little brother a great Christmas. _Dean _had told him the truth. Mind made up, he fished the newspaper wrapped package out of his coat pocket and laid it on Dean's bent knee.

"Here . . . take this."

Dean looked at the present longingly, but shook his head firmly. "No, that's for Dad."

Sam had known it wouldn't be that easy for his brother to take something that he thought belonged to Dad, but he was determined now. He shoved it at him again. "Dad lied to me. I want _you_ to have it."

Dean studied him uncertainly, but took the package this time. "You sure?"

Sam nodded. "I'm sure."

Dean took the package and carefully opened it, exposing the beautiful amulet inside. He looked speechless for a few seconds, and then he blinked like maybe he had something in his eye, and looked up at his little brother. "Thank you, Sam. I love it!"

Sam felt all warm inside at his brother's obvious happiness over his present. He gave a slightly self-conscious grin as he watched Dean lift the cord over his head and place the amulet around his neck. Something just seemed right about that, like Dean was the one who was supposed to have the amulet. Maybe it wasn't such a bad Christmas after all, even without Dad.

_TBC..._

_I know it has a feel as though it could end here, but I have at least one more chapter planned. And obviously my plans don't always end the way I think, since I had originally planned for this whole story to be two chapters long! Thanks again for hanging in there with me, and a special thanks for the wonderful reviews, favorites and alerts. _


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N - Well, here is the next chapter, and yet again it's not the end. It's not even what I thought the next chapter would be! I hope you enjoy it, and I am sure this story will end . . . someday . . . Honestly, I know how it's going to end - it's just that the part of the story _before_ the end keeps expanding!_**

**_Thanks to Cynbad3 for staying up late to beta this chapter! :-) _**

**_Disclaimer in chapter 1_**

**_Chapter 9_**

Because of his long nap, Sam was wide awake and full of restless energy, so Dean let him stay up late, and they channel surfed trying to find something interesting on TV. Since it was Christmas Eve, they were unable to find anything to watch except for sappy Christmas movies. They finally settled on _It's a Wonderful Life_, with some actor with the first name of Jimmy. Sam tried to imagine a grown man who would actually want to be called by such a baby name. He couldn't imagine letting anybody call him _Sammy_ once he was old enough to do anything about it. He couldn't wait to get rid of that name.

The movie was about a really sad guy who spent his whole life helping his family and other people around him, and never had anything go right for him. Well, except he did marry a girl that he liked, which Sam thought was totally gross and unnecessary to the story. Finally the guy decided that everybody would have been better off if he had never been born, until this old fashioned angel named Clarence showed him what life would have been like if he had never existed. Sam actually liked the movie, even though it was old enough to have been filmed in black and white. He would never admit it though, especially after Dean pronounced it too much of a "chick flick".

Sam had figured out long ago that "chick flicks" were movies that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. They could be happy or they could be sad, but either way, if they made you feel emotional, and the emotions did not involve high fives or wanting to beat someone up, then they were "chick flicks" and were to be avoided. Sam dutifully made fun of the movie, throwing out sarcastic comments when appropriate, but secretly, he thought it was a pretty cool movie. He kind of suspected that Dean actually liked it too.

Dean punched him in the arm suddenly, drawing his attention back to the movie. "Look, Dude - Ernie and Bert! Do you think that means that Sesame Street was a spinoff from this movie?"

Sam snickered. "I can't believe you actually admit to knowing characters on Sesame Street!"

Dean punched him again, smirking contentedly. "Of course I know who Ernie and Bert are. I had to watch it with you when you were too little to sit still if I left you by yourself. Otherwise I would have never known where to find you, once you wandered off and got lost somewhere."

"I did not wander off." Sam glared at his brother indignantly, rubbing his sore arm.

"Did too," Dean retorted, grinning.

This resulted in an impromptu wrestling match, which had the dual results of burning off some of Sam's restless energy and making things feel more normal. Maybe that's why Dean started it. When Sam was out of breath from laughter and completely at Dean's mercy, the older boy let him up and sat back on the couch.

The brothers went back to watching the movie, and Sam found himself fascinated with the story, wondering what the world would have been like if he had never existed. He thought sourly that probably Mom would still be alive, if nothing else. After all, she died in his nursery over his crib . . . on the _ceiling_. Sam felt his heart start to pound again, and quickly diverted his attention back to the movie. He needed to think about something other than Dad's journal.

Once the movie was over, Dean stood up and turned the TV off. "Okay, Sam. It's after eleven. Time to hit the hay."

Sam stood up reluctantly and headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed. For some reason, it had seemed easier to sleep than think about things earlier, but now all he could think about was Mom burning up on the ceiling and monsters, and going to sleep seemed like a really bad idea. If he closed his eyes, it would be dark, and scary things always came in the dark.

He hurried in the bathroom so that he could get back out to the main room where Dean was. Even the bathroom seemed scary tonight, with weird shadows in the corners, and . . . . did that curtain just move? Heart pounding, Sam scurried back out and leaped onto his bed, trying to act as though nothing was wrong.

Dean was checking the salt lines, and he turned quickly when he heard the commotion Sam was making. Sam smiled sheepishly, still trying to slow his heart rate. "Sorry, didn't mean to make so much noise. I was just seeing how far I could jump."

"Mmm hmm." Dean looked at him skeptically, but then turned back to his work, shaking his head. "If you keep jumping on the bed, the springs might fall out, and then you'll be sleeping on the floor."

"Sorry." Sam crawled under the covers, but sat up, watching Dean intensely. This should settle him down. He had watched Dean and Dad perform this same nightly ritual for as far back as he could remember. But suddenly, it didn't seem so comforting now that he knew the reason why they did it.

Dean looked up to see him staring at him and sighed patiently. "Go to sleep, Sam. It's late."

Sam obediently burrowed under his covers, but closing his eyes still seemed like a bad idea. He tossed and turned restlessly, trying to get comfortable, but it seemed like a lost cause. He was feeling how tired he was now, but every time his eyes started to drift closed, he remembered the journal and they flew open again. Sam knew that as soon as Dean was done with the room, he would go to bed, the light would go out, and then it would be _really_ dark, and who knew what might happen? He tried to tell himself that nothing had changed since last night, but one thing _had_ changed. Now he _knew_ what was out there, and . . . oh, this was never going to work.

He tried not to watch Dean, but his heart beat triple-time when his brother disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. But then strangely, the door reopened a crack, and Sam relaxed a little, because he could hear his brother moving around in there, brushing his teeth, running the water in the sink. Even the flush of the toilet seemed welcome, a reminder that he wasn't alone.

Dean came back out of the bathroom, and Sam forced his eyes almost completely closed, keeping them open just enough to follow his brother's silhouette as he moved around the room, turning off the overhead light and triple-checking the chain lock on the door. He turned over onto his side, facing away from Dean's bed. He didn't want his brother to know how scared he was.

He had just resigned himself to a night full of fear, listening to Dean peacefully sleeping on his bed while he shook with terror, when the side of his bed jolted, jostling him. He rolled back over, startled, to find Dean sitting on the edge of his bed with his magazine.

"Dean? What are you doing?" He sat up, confused.

Dean didn't look up from his magazine. "Go back to sleep, Sammy. I just want to read my magazine, and the light's brighter on your side. I was getting shadows on the page over on my bed." He carefully scooted back a little further, until he was leaning right up against Sam's side, the warmth a solid comfort. "You don't mind me sitting here for a little while, do you?"

Sam felt every muscle in his body relax as he sank back down against his pillow, curling up on his side so that his back was barely brushing against his brother. "No, Dean. I don't mind." He closed his eyes completely, relieved that his big brother was sitting right there. Now he knew he was safe. He could feel the warmth of Dean's back pressing up against him, and he listened to the pages turning quietly and the peaceful sound of his brother's relaxed breathing.

He could feel himself start to drift off, jerking awake when he saw a sudden flash of fire behind his closed eyes. The slight pressure against his back suddenly increased as Dean pushed himself more firmly back on the bed, and the terrifying flames in his mind fizzled out. This time Sam gave into his natural reaction and turned over, curling into Dean's back. Dean continued to read, completely ignoring his little brother, although Sam realized gratefully that Dean knew exactly what was going on and was letting Sam know he was there and that it was going to be okay. He started to relax in spite of himself, and before he realized what had happened, he was deep into a peaceful sleep.

**_TBC . . ._**

**_As always, thanks for sticking with me, and a special thanks for the reviews, alerts and favorites! You are all awesome! For those in the US, I hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving! I am not even going to speculate on how many more chapters are left, because historically I would be wrong! I will just say next chapter coming soon._**


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N Nope, not going to say a word about how many chapters are left! Many thanks to Cynbad3 for the beta! _

_Disclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 10_

On Christmas morning, Sam woke slowly, forcing open bleary eyes to look sluggishly out the window. It had stopped snowing, and everything looked crisp and cold. Turning his head toward the other bed, he was surprised to see that Dean was still in it. Sam almost never beat Dean out of bed in the morning. He sat up, studying his brother anxiously.

"Hey, Dean." He spoke hesitantly, deciding that he would start with the simple greeting just to see if Dean was actually awake.

Dean turned his head and looked at him through bloodshot eyes. Sam's concern ramped up a notch. Either Dean was sick or hadn't slept or he had been _crying_. And Sam didn't even want to think about what could make _Dean_ cry.

"What's wrong?" he demanded harshly. His heart started up that annoying pounding again.

Dean sat up guiltily, attempting a smile. "Nothing's wrong, Sammy. I just didn't sleep too well last night. No big deal."

Sam wasn't sure he believed him, but he decided to let it go for now. Dean had really been there for him yesterday, so he felt like he should take it easy on him today. He threw the covers back and got up, smiling at his brother.

"You can get some more sleep if you want. I'm just going to read my book for a while." He scowled when he thought about what most of the kids in his class were doing on Christmas morning, but then he noticed Dean looking anxious, so he forced a smile. "You look tired. I'll be okay by myself."

Dean got up, too. "No, that's okay. I've been _trying_ to sleep. Just not going to happen today, I guess. I'll catch up tonight." He smiled at Sam, a weak attempt at his usual grin. "I got dibs on the first shower."

Sam didn't even have the heart to argue with him. He was starting to wonder if Dean wasn't more bothered by Dad's continued absence than he was trying to let on. He decided to help Dean out however he could today. He didn't want to add to his brother's worry. He really didn't care, but he normally would, so he decided to keep up the pretense for now. "Oh, fine. Go ahead. I didn't really want to take a shower anyway. I took one yesterday."

Dean perked up a little at his brotherly duties. "Yes, you did. But we were out playing hard in the snow. Trust me, Sammy. You need a shower!"

Sam bit back a smile. Apparently his plan was working. Normal was what Dean needed today, at least what passed for normal for a Winchester. He plastered on a scowl. "Fine. Just save me some hot water, okay?"

Dean grinned, heading for the bathroom. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see, Sammy. I won't be _too_ long."

Once the bathroom door closed behind him, Sam slumped back against his pillows. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the idea that Dean was worried. It was one thing when he had had his little melt down yesterday, because even though he was worried, Dean had stayed calm and sure in his belief in their father. But now even _Dean_ seemed worried. Dad had said he would be back in time for Christmas, and here it was Christmas day and no Dad.

Sam scowled again, this time a real one. It was bad enough that Dad had lied to _him_ because they thought he was too young or whatever, but now he had apparently lied to _Dean_, too, and that was really not okay. Although he was ashamed to admit that somewhere deep inside, he felt just a little bit of satisfaction that at last he and Dean were in the same boat, that Dad had lied to _both_ of them. That thought made him feel like a terrible brother, so he tried to get it out of his mind. He sighed and crawled out of his bed, trying to decide what he could do to make his brother feel better.

He was still sitting on the sofa thinking about it when Dean emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was wearing his jeans, but no shirt, still drying his shoulders with a towel. Sam's eyes were drawn to the am-you-let that was sparkling against his brother's chest. He was really glad he had given it to Dean instead of Dad. He wasn't sure how it was special, but Uncle Bobby said it was, so it must be something really cool. Dean was the best big brother ever, so he deserved something really cool. And Dad hadn't even bothered to show up for Christmas. Sam refused to consider any other reasons why Dad hadn't showed up. Dean said Dad was the best and the monsters wouldn't get him, so that must mean that he just had not bothered to come.

"Your turn, Sammy." Dean snapped Sam with his rolled up towel as he passed the sofa. "Don't forget to wash behind your ears."

Sam rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom. "I washed behind my ears yesterday. How could having a snowball fight make my ears dirty in one day?"

"Just wash them, Sam." Dean had put on his shirt and tugged it down over his chest before pulling out the am-you-let out to rest on top.

"Fine." As Sam closed the door, he decided he needed to check his dictionary to find out exactly what an am-you-let was. He took a quick shower, grateful that Dean really had left him some hot water. He even washed behind his ears just in case Dean asked, although he really thought it was a waste of soap and time.

When he came back out of the bathroom, he was alone in the room again. Dean must be out getting breakfast. Sam grabbed his book and settled in to read, but his mind kept wandering. He wondered what it would be like to have a normal Christmas like he saw on television, with two parents and a big tree and lots of presents. He wondered where Dad was. He wondered what he could do to help Dean feel better. And then he started thinking about the stuff in Dad's journal again, and his heart crept back up into his throat. Maybe Dean didn't go out for breakfast. Maybe something took him?

Just as he was starting to work himself up into a panic, the door opened, and Dean walked in with a plastic bag from the gas station down the street. "Did you wash behind your ears?"

Sam grinned, pleased that he had thought of Dean asking him. "Yup. What's for breakfast?"

Dean pulled two white bundles and two cartons of milk out of his bag. He threw one of the bundles at Sam, who caught it reflexively. "They had breakfast burritos today." He tossed one of the milk cartons, and Sam caught that too. "Merry Christmas!"

Taking his own burrito and milk, Dean hopped over the back of the sofa, and settled comfortably in the corner. He had his burrito half gone before Sam even had the paper off of his. Sam looked up at him in awe, shocked that he could eat that fast, until he realized that Dean's burrito wasn't half gone, the whole missing half was in his mouth. Dean grinned, showing it off.

Sam rolled his eyes again. It was going to be a long day.

_TBC..._

_Thanks to everyone still reading! As always, you are all awesome! _


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N You guys rock! Thanks again to everyone reading, reviewing and setting alerts and favorites. You have made this such a fun adventure! Special thanks to Cynbad3 for the beta and also for all the pep talks! You always know just the right thing to say! _

_Diclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 11_

Christmas day progressed slowly. Sam really wanted to read more of his book, but Dean was restless, and he didn't think that reading and leaving his brother to think too much was probably a good idea. So instead he thought of as many questions as he could to ask about hunting and the journal.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean looked up from the apple he was tossing back and forth between his hands. "Yeah?"

Sam swallowed hard and licked his lips nervously. To be honest, he didn't want to know the answers to the questions he was about to ask, but he felt that he needed to know, and Dean definitely needed to do something to keep his mind off their missing father. "How old were you when you found out?"

The apple dropped to the floor unnoticed. Dean's bored look disappeared, and he immediately shifted into what Sam called "big brother mode". Usually that meant he was about to go up against a bully or something to protect his little brother, but this time Sam knew he was probably carefully choosing his words to keep from scaring him. "Four," he finally rasped hoarsely, then cleared his throat and said it again. "I was four."

Sam was stunned. He couldn't imagine a four year old Dean dealing with what Sam had learned yesterday as an eight year old. Once again he felt a rush of pain run through him as he wondered why Dad had told Dean so young and didn't think Sam was _still_ old enough to know. He had to know. "Why did Dad tell you when you were that little and not tell me? He didn't think I could handle it as well as you could even when you were four?"

Dean shook his head. "No, Sam. That's not it. He wouldn't have told me either if he could have helped it. The thing is, he didn't have to tell me because I was there! I remember the fire and everything. I was sleeping, and then I heard Mom and Dad yelling and screaming, and I went to see what was going on. I saw the fire in the nursery, and I heard you crying, and I . . . I saw Mom on the ceiling." He swallowed hard, looking away. "If Dad could have kept it from me, he would have. I know he would. But he knew it was too late. I was afraid of everything for a while after that."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Dad's book says that you used to sleep in my crib with me."

Dean blushed, grinning self-consciously. "Yeah, I remember that. Somehow I had this idea in my head that if I slept in your crib that nothing bad could happen to you. I'm not sure what I thought a four-year old kid was going to do to keep evil stuff away from you."

Sam smiled. "You always take care of me, Dean." He cleared his throat and decided to change the subject before Dean pronounced it a "chick flick moment" and shut down. "Have you ever seen any of the monsters in Dad's book?"

Dean's grin completely disappeared. "Only once." He stood up quickly. "Wanna go out? We can go out by the woods and have another snowball fight."

Apparently the subject was now closed. Sam wasn't sure what he had said wrong, but something had hit a sore spot with Dean. The last thing Sam wanted to do right now was to go out and get cold and wet, but he wanted to keep his brother distracted, so he jumped at the idea. "Sure!" He scrambled to put on his coat and gloves, and ran for the door. "Race ya!"

Dean never could resist a challenge, so the boys tumbled out the door together into the snow and ran for the edge of the woods, shoving each other good-naturedly to try to get ahead. Sam tripped and went down just as they arrived at their destination, allowing Dean to win the race. For his troubles, he was rewarded with a face-full of snow and Dean's howl of laughter. He glared at his brother, although inside he felt he had accomplished his goal. Dean seemed much happier now.

Dean dropped down beside him, still laughing. "I'm sorry, Sammy. If you could have seen yourself, you'd see how funny that was!" He managed to get himself under control, looking him over critically. "You're okay, right?"

Sam nodded, wiping his dripping face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little wet."

Dean's grin was somewhere between mischievous and evil. "Oh, you're going to get a lot wetter than that!" He pushed up to his feet, throwing a handful of snow at Sam. "Prepare to defend yourself!" he shouted dramatically.

Sam shook his head ruefully and struggled to his feet, brushing snow from the seat of his pants and his coat. Helping Dean to feel better was hard work.

The battle was long and hard, and neither boy would admit to defeat. Finally Dean called an end to their war, probably because Sam's teeth were chattering and he couldn't stop shivering. He was soaked from head to toe, and ice crystals had formed in his hair and clothes. Probably Dean should be declared the winner, but Sam couldn't help but feel that he had won too as they crunched their way through the snow back toward the room. Dean seemed energized, a spring back in his step that had been missing when they left the room.

When they arrived back at their room, Dean unlocked the door and quickly ushered Sam inside. "Okay, Sammy. Get in the bathroom, get out of your wet clothes and take a hot shower. You need to get warmed up."

Sam didn't even bother complaining, even though it was his _second_ shower in _one_ day. He was really cold and the hot water would feel good. Dean hadn't even warned him not to use up all the hot water, so Sam stood under the spray for a long time. The bathroom steamed up, and he started to feel waterlogged, but at least he was finally warm. When he finally turned the water off, he jumped when a towel was thrust around the edge of the shower curtain.

He took the towel reflexively, wrapping it around his waist as he stuck his head out into the cooler air outside the shower stall. His intention was to yell at Dean for disturbing his privacy. After all, eight years old was certainly old enough to have a little privacy in the shower. But Dean was huddled on the closed toilet lid, wrapped in another towel, soaking in the steam from Sam's shower. Sam bit back the angry words he had been about to shout. Dean was cold too, but he hadn't complained about Sam taking such a long shower or using all the hot water or anything. Instead Sam grinned. "Your turn. You need to warm up too!"

Dean nodded and stood up as Sam left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He really hoped he hadn't used all the hot water. As he crossed to his duffel beside his bed, he heard the shower turn on again. Sam dressed quickly and picked up his book. But then he spotted Dean's present draped carefully over his pillow and remembered his plan to look up the word am-you-let in the dictionary. Sitting the book back down on his bed, he dug through his school bag, pulling out his battered copy of Merriam-Webster's Dictionary. Dean had found it at a yard sale, little knowing how often his little brother would actually use the book. It had been a great bargain for twenty-five cents.

Sam opened the dictionary to the _A_ section and quickly found words starting with _Am_. The next part was trickier. Sam wasn't actually sure how to spell the word, just how Uncle Bobby had pronounced it. He decided to spell it how it sounded, so he looked for words beginning with _Amyo_. The only words he found there appeared to be medical terms like _amyotonia_ and _amyotrophic_. So apparently he was spelling it wrong.

He was pretty sure the _Am_ part was right, so he decided to substitute the letter _u_ for the word _you. _He found the word halfway down the first page he checked. _Amulet. _The definition took Sam's breath away. _A small object worn to ward off evil, harm, or illness or to bring good fortune; protecting charm_. Uncle Bobby was right. It _was_ really special, and Sam was now more than ever convinced he had given it to the right person. Dean took care of him, and this was a way that he could help to protect his big brother from all of those monsters in Dad's book.

Sam was so lost in thought that he jumped when Dean thumped him on the head playfully on his way by. Sam glared at his brother, rubbing his head.

Dean grinned. "Gotta pay attention, Sammy." He quickly finished dressing, carefully pulling the amulet back over his head, letting it drop against his shirt. "You should always know what's going on around you."

Sam opened his mouth to respond when a low rumble distracted him. The sound had opposite reactions on the two boys. Dean immediately relaxed, looking relieved, while Sam tensed up, shooting a nervous look at the journal. Dad was home.

_TBC . . . _


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N Many many thanks to Cynbad3 for taking the time to beta this, even though she wasn't feeling well. Get well soon! As always, thanks so much for the reviews, alerts and favorites. You are all awesome! _

_Disclaimer in chapter 1_

_Chapter 12_

Sam and Dean sat in silence listening to the rumble of the Impala's engine and the crunch of the tires through the snow. Sam flinched when the rumbling engine silenced abruptly, followed by the squeak of the driver's door opening. He wondered exactly how much trouble he was going to be in when Dad found out that he had taken the journal. In a way he was relieved. At least it would be out in the open, and he could stop worrying about getting caught with it.

Sam darted a quick glance at Dean, who was now sitting sprawled on the sofa with his magazine. He looked relaxed and like he had been sitting there for a while with not a care in the world. Sam recognized the pose. It was exactly how he had been sitting when Dean came home yesterday after Sam had read the journal. He wondered if Dean's pose was just as much an act as his had been.

Sam hoped he was as good an actor as Dean, if that was the case. He was still mad at Dad for the lies, even if he was relieved that he was home and nothing bad had happened to him. But he knew if he treated Dad the way he wanted to, he would be in big trouble. So he needed to act normal, and like he didn't know anything. Of course, he could still be mad that it had taken Dad so long to get home, because that would have been normal for him even if he hadn't found out about all of the other stuff.

Dean looked over at him and offered an encouraging smile, but Sam was too preoccupied with his thoughts to be comforted by it. The slam of the Impala's trunk and then footsteps crunching through the snow heralded Dad's arrival at the room. Sam darted to his bed, grabbed his book and flopped down on his stomach across the bed. He opened the book and focused on appearing to be reading. Looking down, he realized he had the book upside down and quickly flipped it right side up. Heart pounding, he listened as Dad put his key in the lock and opened the door.

Both boys did an admirable job of looking startled to find Dad standing there, but for two different reasons. Sam knew Dean didn't want Dad to think he had been worried, and Sam just didn't know how to act around his father now that he knew the truth.

Dad stopped just inside the door. "Hey, boys." Then his eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean, who was giving an award winning performance of someone who had just been completely surprised by his father walking in the door. "Dean, why wasn't the chain lock on?"

Sam couldn't believe his ears. Dad hadn't apologized for being late, hadn't even wished them a Merry Christmas or anything; instead it seemed he just wanted to yell at Dean. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean jumped in first.

"Sorry, Dad. We were getting cooped up in here, so I took Sammy out by the woods behind the building, and we had a snowball fight. You know, to get rid of some of the excess energy." When this statement, obviously meant to soothe, appeared to have the opposite effect Dean plowed on. "Don't worry, nobody saw us. Nobody knows we were here by ourselves. It's just . . . . you were gone a long time, and we needed to do something to keep our minds busy." He nodded significantly toward Sam.

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. Sure. Blame him because _Dean_ had gotten antsy sitting there. He supposed it was not cool to be the _big_ brother and have a harder time sitting still for a while than the _little_ brother. Sam would have been just as happy to stay inside and finish his book. Oh well. He could take one for the team, if he needed to. Dad could think it was Sam that had been antsy instead of Dean if he wanted.

Dad's face softened, and he nodded. "I'm sorry, boys. I worry about leaving you two all by yourselves. I had a really good sales trip, but it took longer than I thought it would. I'm sorry I left you alone for so long." He dropped his duffle to the floor and sat down abruptly on the sofa. "And I know I promised I would be back before Christmas. I'm sorry I didn't get back when I thought I would."

Sam had started to relax as Dad apologized for being late, until the words 'sales trip' triggered Sam's anger all over again. He opened his mouth to tell Dad exactly what he thought of his stupid 'sales trip' when Dean jumped in again. "That's okay, Dad. We understand, don't we, Sam?" He threw a pleading look at Sam.

Sam didn't want to contradict Dean, so he found himself nodding. "Yes sir, we understand." His words might have come out sounding a bit sullen, but that was the best he could do.

Dad seemed to accept that for now, and he leaned back against the back of the sofa, resting his eyes wearily. Sam noticed with rising alarm that Dad had a scratch across the side of his neck, and he looked like he was bearing the colorful remains of a black eye. Faded yellow and purple hues decorated his cheekbone and the side of his face.

"What happened, Dad? Are you okay?" Sam stood up, clenching his fists in alarm. "What happened to your face?"

Dad grimaced and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Nothing, Sam. Don't worry about it. Just a difference of opinion that got a little out of hand." He chuckled wryly. "You know how people get all emotional around the holidays. The guy had a little bit of a short fuse."

Sam tried hard to act normal, only mildly concerned, but his mind was racing in a hundred different directions at once. He wanted to blurt out that he knew what Dad had really been doing on his trip. If nothing else, he wanted to tell his father that he must be a terrible salesman if he made people want to beat him up. He wanted to hug Dad and beg him to never leave them again. And he wanted to tell him that he knew that they had _lied_ to him his whole life.

Once again, Dean saved him, casting Sam a wary glance before asking Dad if he needed the first aid kit. Dad shook his head. "Really, boys. It's nothing to worry about! It's just a black eye, and it's already fading." He grinned. "I'll just have to remember to duck next time."

Sam sat down on the arm of the sofa beside Dad, watching as Dean eased down onto the cushions beside their father. For now it was enough to sit together for a few minutes, all three of them. Even though Sam trusted Dean to take care of him, it was nice to have Dad here to protect them.

Dad suddenly leaned forward, digging industriously through the top of his duffel. ""Hey, I bet you boys thought I forgot about Christmas. Well I will have you know that I did _**not**_!" He pulled two wrapped presents from the bag with a flourish, handing one to each of the boys. "Merry Christmas, boys."

Sam looked at the heavy package on his lap. It was even neatly wrapped with green and gold striped paper, with a fancy ribbon around it. It didn't really look like something Dad would have done himself. He wondered who had wrapped it. Looking over at Dean, he watched as his brother looked down at the smaller package he was holding. His was wrapped with shiny blue paper with little snowflakes on it and a silver bow. Maybe the store had wrapped the presents.

"Go ahead, boys. Open them up." Dad leaned back, watching his sons with a pleased expression. "Sammy, why don't you go first?"

Sam carefully pulled the paper apart at the seams, folding it back to reveal . . . a book? In his surprise, the paper that he had carefully saved fluttered unnoticed to the floor. He flipped the heavy green book over and looked at the cover in awe. The hardback book was covered in green leather with gold letters embossed on the front. _Five Complete Novels of Charles Dickens. _Sam was speechless. He flipped through the pages carefully, looking at the titles of the novels included. _Oliver Twist_, _A Christmas Carol_, _David Copperfield_, _A Tale of Two Cities_ and _Great Expectations_. He looked up at Dad shyly, eyes shining.

"Thank you, Dad!"

Dad grinned proudly back at him. "You're welcome. I tried to find one with all different stories, but _Oliver Twist_ seemed to be in all of the ones I found. You seemed like you were really enjoying that book when I left, so I thought you might like to read some more by the same author."

Sam was so stunned that Dad had actually noticed what he had been reading that he didn't care that his new book contained the same story. He would probably want to read it again someday, anyway. This was the most awesome Christmas present he had ever gotten. Impulsively, he leaned over and hugged Dad, surprising them both, before he leaned back again, reverently touching the cover of his new book.

Dean grinned at both his sibling and his father before ripping the paper off of his smaller present in crumpled strips. Sam looked up from his book to see what Dean had gotten. The shredded paper revealed a long, thin black case. Opening the lid on the case, Dean's face went slack. Sam strained to see what was inside that had shocked his brother. Dean carefully reached into the case and pulled out a lethal looking silver knife with a black hand-grip.

"Aw, cool, Dad! This is awesome!" Dean's eyes sparkled with excitement. He flipped the knife so that it aimed down, and pretended to slash something with it.

"Whoa, Dean." Dad laughed. "We'll need to do a little practicing with that. You don't want to accidentally stab something." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I was thinking, though, that you're old enough to start going hunting with me every now and then. I wanted to get you a good knife for when we do."

Sam's book fell to the floor with a thud. He didn't even care that Dad and Dean had turned to look at him in surprise. Dean was going to start going out and being in danger, too. What if he got hurt? Who would look after Sam while they were gone? What if . . . .

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean grinned at his brother, but Sam could see the worry in his eyes. "Are you afraid I'll hurt your pal Bambi?"

Sam deflated. He had to act normal. He was going to give away what he knew. He smiled weakly, retrieving his book from the floor. As far as he was supposed to know, Dad was talking about hunting animals.

"Nah," he said as nonchalantly as possible. "I was just worried that you might get eaten by a bear or something."

Dad chuckled, looking at Sam fondly. "Don't worry, Sam. I'll make sure he stays safe." Suddenly his gaze seemed to catch on something behind Sam, and his smile disappeared. When he spoke, his voice was icy. "Would one of you boys like to tell me what my journal is doing on your nightstand?"

_TBC . . . _

_We are getting into the home stretch now. I am hoping to have this finished before Christmas! Thanks for sticking with me! _


	13. Chapter 13

**_A/N: Well, I had two ideas about this chapter. It would be posted by Christmas, and it would be the last chapter. Unfortunately I failed on both! Huge thanks to Cynbad3 for taking time from her Christmas festivities to beta this chapter! Thanks again for the reviews, favorites and alerts. I know I say it every chapter, but it bears repeating - you are the best! So here it is . . a little AFTER Christmas and NOT the last chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! _**

**_Disclaimer in chapter 1_**

**_Chapter 13_**

"_Would one of you boys like to tell me what my journal is doing on your nightstand?"_

Dad's angry words seemed to echo in the sudden silence. Sam swallowed hard, glancing at Dean. His brother was looking grim and pale, and Sam felt bad that he had started this whole thing. He had just wanted to find out what the big secret was, not to get Dean in trouble. Trembling, he opened his mouth to confess to taking the journal.

For the fourth time in the short while since Dad had been home, Dean jumped in before Sam could get a word out. "Sorry, Dad. We should have told you right away when you got home. We found it on the floor after you left on your sales trip. It must have fallen out, maybe when Sam was looking for the rags or else when you were packing."

Sam had to work hard to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock. Dean had just lied . . . to _Dad_ . . . for _him_. He couldn't believe he had actually heard Dean correctly.

Dad's face softened. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry I jumped on you boys. I noticed it was missing while I was on my sales trip, and I jumped to conclusions when I saw it sitting there."

Sam thought miserably that Dad was really a very good concluder. He really _should_ be in trouble. He still wanted to confess, but now if he did, Dean would be in trouble too. He couldn't do that to Dean, not after his brother had just stuck up for him. He decided to keep his mouth shut and keep Dean out of trouble.

"That's okay, Dad. Thanks for the knife. It's awesome!" Dean diverted Dad's attention back to the Christmas presents, and Sam watched in awe as his older brother manipulated the situation. Dean was _good_.

Sam clutched his book tighter. "Yeah, Dad. This book is great, too. Thanks!" He faltered for a moment as he realized that even though he had been late, Dad had bought them both great presents, but neither boy had anything for him. "I'm sorry we didn't get anything for you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean pale and grasp reflexively at the amulet hanging around his neck. He returned Sam's gaze guiltily, looking like he was about to speak, but this time it was Sam's turn to jump in. He was not about to let Dean give up his present, especially when it was obvious that he really liked it. Sam was still absolutely sure he had given the amulet to the right person.

"Maybe we could still get you something later?" He felt a little guilty, and he wondered what Uncle Bobby would say when he realized that Sam had changed his mind about who to give the amulet to.

Dad smiled, a _real _smile, the kind they didn't get to see very often. "Sammy, you don't need to get anything for me. I'm just proud of my boys being able to look after things while I have to be away. I can always count on you boys to follow orders and take care of each other. That's present enough for me."

Sam's heart fell. Dad thought he had followed orders? He really believed what Dean had told him about the journal. Sam felt a wave of guilt surge through him. He was lying to Dad right now. He had to confess, but he didn't know how to do it without getting Dean into trouble, too. He puzzled over this dilemma for a while, listening absently as Dean filled Dad in on the few things that had happened while he was gone.

"I read it," he blurted suddenly, blushing furiously as his father and brother stopped speaking and turned to look at him. He hadn't meant to say that, but it slipped out anyway. Dad looked confused, but Dean's eyes were desperate and accusing.

"You read what, Buddy?" Dad's good mood made Sam feel worse. "You already read the stories in your book? _All_ of them? Maybe I could take it back and get something different for you."

"No sir." Sam swallowed hard. "I read your journal." He dropped his eyes, unable to meet the disappointment and anger he knew he would see on Dad's face. "I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment, and then strong fingers grasped his chin and tilted his face up. Dad had gotten up from the sofa and was crouched down on the floor in front of him, but he didn't look angry. Actually, he looked kind of sad. "How much of it did you read, Sam?"

"A lot," Sam admitted in a small voice. "I read the beginning part and some of the part about the monsters."

Dad nodded, looking really tired suddenly. He sat back on the sofa, right up next to Sam so he could feel the warmth from Dad's arm against his shoulder. "Do you have any questions you want to ask me?"

Suddenly, Sam saw the way to talk to Dad about this without getting Dean in trouble. He forced himself to look Dad in the eye. "Is it true?"

Beyond Dad's shoulder he saw the stunned look on Dean's face melt into relief as he realized Sam wasn't going to tell Dad about the discussion they had already had about the journal. Dad would never know what Dean had told Sam.

"Yes, it is." Dad's voice was solemn. "I'm really sorry you had to find out about it, though."

"Why?" Sam couldn't prevent the plaintive quality to his voice, even as he mentally kicked himself for sounding like a whiny baby. "How come you didn't want me to know?" Tears filled his eyes. "Is it . . . because Mom died because of me?"

Dad's arm went around Sam's shoulders now, and his voice was gruff and sure when he replied. "Absolutely not. You had nothing to do with what happened to your mother. It was not your fault, and don't ever think it was. I just wanted to protect you from what's out there for as long as possible. It was scary even for me when I found out, and I didn't want that for you."

Sam nodded, leaning his head against Dad's arm, feeling a little better. That actually kind of made sense. Dad was just protecting him. But then he thought about all of the lies about being a salesman, and he got mad all over again. He couldn't believe how his feelings had kept bouncing around like a rubber ball for the past week, ever since he took the journal.

He looked over at Dean, who was still looking kind of anxious, and his anger grew. "But if all that stuff is true, how come you leave us by ourselves so much? What if one of those monsters came here when you were out somewhere? What would happen then? What if something came after me when I was at school or something, and I didn't know what it was or how to get it? Didn't you want me to be able to protect myself?" His voice had risen as he spoke, and he watched as Dean's nervousness transformed into alarm.

Dad's arm tightened almost painfully. "Calm yourself down, Sam." He almost barked the order, and it grated on Sam's raw nerves. "Of course I want you to be able to protect yourself. But more importantly, Dean looks out for you. He won't let anything hurt you."

Sam's fury grew as he realized Dad actually thought it was okay to pass off his responsibility for Sam's safety onto his brother. "But he's just a kid, too! That's _your_ job!" He belatedly realized he might have gone too far when Dad's face darkened in anger.

"That's enough, Sam. I'm going to let that go because I know you're a little scared right now. But you don't get to talk to me that way. I am your father, and I will make sure that you are protected. Sometimes that means that Dean will be protecting you because I can't be here. But I need to protect other people, too. You wouldn't want other people to get hurt because you were too scared for me to go help them, would you?"

Sam looked down at a hole in the knee of his jeans. "No sir." He tried to keep the resentment out of his voice, but he didn't think he was very successful when his father's arm tightened even more. "Of course I don't want other people to get hurt because of me."

"Good. Now, like I was saying before, I'm sorry you found out about it. We just wanted to let you be a normal kid as long as possible. But now that you know, it will be easier for everybody. Now that Dean's older, I'm going to start taking him with me sometimes when I go out and hunt the things in my journal."

Sam's heart took off again, panic overwhelming him. "You're going to leave me by myself? I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I read your journal. Please don't leave me by myself!"

Dean got up from his seat on the other side of Dad and moved to stand beside Sam, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. While he seemed pleased to be included in the future 'hunting' trips, he remained serious and comforting for his brother. "Of course not, Sam. We wouldn't leave you by yourself. Right, Dad?"

John nodded, grimacing. "I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean it to sound like that. Of course we wouldn't leave you all by yourself. You'll stay with Pastor Jim or Bobby while we go out. They won't let anything happen to you."

This made Sam feel a little better, but he was still scared and angry. "But I don't want to stay with Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby. I want to stay with you and Dean!"

Dad was looking angry again, too. "Sam, it's not going to happen today, but Dean _will_ be going out hunting with me, and you _will_ stay with Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby, and I don't want to hear another word about that. In a few years, you'll start coming with us too. Now that you know what's what, we'll step up your training."

Sam bit his lip, determined not to say anything. He knew he was only going to get into a bigger argument with Dad if he told him how unfair he thought it was that Dad apparently had not only been lying to him his whole life, but that he also seemed to care more about other people than his own sons. Sam trusted Dean to do what he could, but his brother wasn't even thirteen years old until next month. What kind of a parent would make their twelve year old son be in charge for days at a time, knowing what scary things were out there that could get both of his boys while he was out protecting complete _strangers_?

In that moment, Sam didn't care that Dean thought Dad was a super hero. He only cared that the super hero part of Dad's life was the most important to him, even more important than his own sons. For a split second he almost hoped that something _did_ come after them when Dad was out, just to prove what a stupid idea that was. Dad would be sorry then. But then he remembered that if something came after them, it would be scary and probably they would die, and then it wouldn't matter anyway.

Dad released him from the tight grip he had him in, and pushed up from the sofa. "Now I don't want to hear another word about this right now. It's Christmas Day, and I want to enjoy some down time with my sons. Why don't you boys get your coats, and we'll see if we can find anywhere that is open to get some dinner."

Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder reassuringly, and then released him also. "Hey, maybe we can go out for Chinese food like in A Christmas Story." He grinned, referring to his favorite Christmas movie.

Sam felt a small grin form on his face at that. He liked that movie, too. He stood up, still struggling with his anger and disillusionment, and obediently put his coat back on. Dad was right. It was Christmas, all three of them were together for now, and he would try to forget about all the other stuff for a little while. For now, it was time to go get some Christmas dinner.

**_TBC . . . _**


	14. Chapter 14

**_A/N As always, many thanks to Cynbad3 for the beta! Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story, especially those who have reviewed, or set on alert or favorite! _**

**_Disclaimer in chapter 1_**

**_Chapter 14_**

As it turned out, dinner consisted of stale subs and bags of chips from the gas station down the street. Sam had been shocked by how dirty the black paint of the Impala had been when they emerged from their room. Dirt, mud and salt residue were splashed liberally over the body of the car, even over the hood and up to the roof, like Dad had driven in a hurry through puddles of muddy water. Usually the car was clean by the time Dad got home, so he was surprised to see it in the shape it was in today. Maybe Dad _had_ actually been in a hurry to get back to them.

The three Winchesters had piled into the Impala to begin their journey through town in an attempt to find a restaurant that was actually open. Unfortunately, Broken Bow wasn't as large as some of the towns they had spent Christmas in before, so the pickings were slim. Although they did find a few of the locally owned restaurants and diners sporting the warm glow of Christmas lights in the windows, not one of them was open.

Which was why they were currently at the gas station deciding between the ham and cheese, turkey and cheese, or Italian sub from the little refrigerator beside the register. Dad let the boys pick first, saying he would take whichever was left. Sam immediately picked the Italian sub, but Dean studied the ham and turkey subs for a while before finally making his choice. He finally decided on the turkey sub, declaring that turkey was awesome because it makes you sleepy. Dad rolled his eyes, but took the ham and cheese, since that was what was left. They each picked a bag of chips and a soda, and Dad even let them each get an ice cream bar for dessert.

Back at the motel, dinner was eaten in silence. Sam looked up a few times to find Dad watching him, a sad look on his face, but he always looked away when Sam caught him. After dinner, Sam went back to reading _The Black Stallion_ so he could return it to the library. Now that he had his own book, the two he had borrowed didn't seem quite as exciting. He decided to wait and read _The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer _another time. He wanted to start reading through his new book as soon as he could.

"What's this?"

Dad's sharp voice caught his attention, and Sam looked up, startled, and then his jaw dropped open. Dad was holding the red box with the Sapphire Barbie in it. Sam gulped guiltily. They should have returned it to its rightful owner, or at the very least thrown it in the dumpster. But they hadn't been thinking about it, and Sam had just tossed the 'chick presents' into the trash can.

Neither boy spoke for a moment, and Sam hoped that Dean could come up with a good excuse for the girly toys to be in their trash can, because he was drawing a complete blank. Sam stood up, unsure of what to do. He glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye. Dean had also risen to his feet, but had flushed red and was staring at the floor. Sam could tell he was frantically trying to come up with something to say.

"Well?"

Dad's voice was back to icy again, and Sam shivered. They were definitely in trouble now. It never occurred to him that Dean would actually be the only one to get in trouble. His big brother had stolen the presents in an attempt to give Sam a normal Christmas, so in Sam's mind, he was just as guilty.

When silence filled the room, Dad placed the box on the desk and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just _dying_ to find out why I would come home from a hunting trip to find a brand new _Barbie doll_ in our trash can. Is there something one of you boys would like to tell me?"

Sam couldn't take it anymore. The disappointment and anger in Dad's face, his sarcastic words, and Dean looking like he was hoping to blend in with the carpet all combined together and he felt like he had to say something or he would explode. Dean had only been trying to make him feel better because he had been so upset about what he had discovered in the journal. But Sam couldn't tell Dad that, or they would both be in even bigger trouble than they already were. Still, he had to say _something_.

"It's my fault!" Both boys spoke simultaneously, and Dean turned to look at Sam incredulously.

Dad nodded, resignedly. "This should be good. Sam, why don't you go first? Do you want to tell me what you're talking about?"

"But, Dad . . ." Dean protested, trying to jump in before Sam.

"Dean, let your brother speak." Dad didn't sound angry anymore, just tired. "Sam?"

But now that Sam had the floor, he wasn't sure what he could say. He stared at his shoes, trying to think of something to say.

"I took them." Dean's confession took the wind out of Sam's sails. "I wanted to give Sam Christmas and you weren't here, and I didn't know if you would get back in time, so I took some presents from the house down the street." His face was beet red now, but his lips twisted up into a wry grin as he chanced a glance at Sam. "But I didn't know they were chick presents."

Dad's face looked kind of funny. He looked mad for a few seconds, but then he almost looked like he was going to laugh. Then he looked angry again. "Is that what happened, Sam?"

Sam nodded, lowering his eyes to the carpet again. Dean had told the truth, and now they were in so much trouble. "Yes, sir."

Dad turned back to Dean. "Son, I appreciate you looking out for your brother, but you know that stealing is wrong." When Dean looked up at him in surprise, he nodded. "I know. We do get some of our funds less than honestly, but that is to put food on the table and pay for the supplies I need for the hunts. Dean, what if you had gotten caught? I was out of town, and CPS would probably have been called in. They would have taken you away from me, and chances are, they would have separated you boys from each other. Is that what you want?"

"No, sir." Dean's voice was barely more than a whisper, and he looked sick. "No, sir. I guess I wasn't thinking."

Dad nodded, looking strangely proud. "Well, what's done is done. Next time you'll know better. Especially after the extra laps you'll be running in your next training session."

Sam looked at his brother, a little bit confused about what had just happened. He had expected Dean to be upset about the punishment Dad had just slipped in there, but his brother actually looked relieved. Sam might not be stupid, but he had completely missed something in this entire exchange between his father and brother. What did getting funds less than honestly mean? Did Dad steal stuff, too? And why was Dean looking so relieved to be punished? He shook his head. This conversation didn't make any sense to him, even after reading the journal. He had thought that once he read that book, that he would understand what was going on, but he was just as lost now as he had been before. He sighed, shaking his head sadly.

The motion caught Dad's attention, and he turned curious eyes on the youngest member of the family. "Okay, now that we have that out of the way, why did you say it was your fault, Sam?"

Sam cleared his throat nervously and shifted from one foot to the other. "Because . . . because I didn't hide them good enough?" he finally ventured, cringing.

Dean actually snorted at that, which made Sam open his eyes fully and stare at his brother. Dean did not normally _snort_. His brother had dropped back down onto the bed and was now actually giggling. Sam shifted his puzzled gaze to Dad's face, expecting to find his father glaring at him in disappointment. But Dad looked like he was trying not to laugh, too. Sam gave up. He would never understand his father and his brother, and he might as well not even try. Tentatively, he smiled back, relaxing a little bit as Dad put his arm around him.

"That's right, Sammy. I think you need some lessons on how to hide the evidence more effectively." Dad squeezed him tight. "That will be your first lesson on hunting. Concealing evidence 101."

This whole conversation made no sense to Sam, but he found himself really enjoying being part of the group as they chuckled about Dad's joke. He had spent years watching longingly as Dad and Dean shared their private conversations and spent time working on projects that did not include Sam, and he was just excited to finally be part of it. He didn't know what was so funny, but that seemed to make Dad and Dean laugh harder. Sam decided not to worry about it, and just go with the flow. His smile grew as he relaxed, and he hugged Dad back.

**_TBC . . . _**

**_Hopefully one more chapter, which I am already writing, and the the story will be complete! _**


	15. Chapter 15

**_A/N: So here we are at the final chapter! Considering this ended up being 13 chapters longer than I originally intended, I am amazed! Thanks as always to Cynbad3 for being my beta and biggest cheerleader! _**

**_Disclaimer in chapter 1_**

**_Chapter 15_**

The rest of the Christmas break passed quickly. Sam was very glad that Dad didn't have anywhere special to be, so the boys were going to stay in school here for another few weeks before they moved on to the next hunt, with maybe a stop to visit Uncle Bobby, since they were so close. Sam learned a lot during the rest of that week. He finally felt brave enough to ask Dad some more questions, and Dad was trying to educate him without scaring him to death. Sam felt like maybe hunting wasn't quite as scary as he had been thinking. It seemed more like Dean had said, like Dad was a hero, and Dean and Sam could grow up to be heroes, too.

Dad was a very observant man, and it had always been hard to get anything past him, so it was rather strange that it wasn't until New Year's night that Dad noticed Dean's amulet. Both boys were getting ready for bed, and Dean walked past him in sweats and one of Dad's old marine t-shirts when Dad suddenly reached out and grabbed the chain, pulling Dean to a standstill. Sam watched warily as his brother looked up at Dad, obviously confused.

"Where did you get this, Dean?" Dad demanded harshly, examining the amulet closely. "Did you steal this, too?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, eyes lighting up as he grinned proudly. "No, sir. Sammy gave it to me for Christmas."

Sam was pleased to see that sometime in the past week, Dean had stopped thinking that he had stolen Dad's gift and had accepted it as his own. He gulped when Dad turned fierce eyes on him, rushing to explain. "I didn't steal it, Dad, honest! Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to y . . . Dean for Christmas." Sam glared at Dad defiantly.

Dad's eyes narrowed as he caught Sam's slip, but then he relaxed, suddenly smiling. "Okay, Sam. I'm sorry I got a little excited there. This is a very valuable gift you gave your brother."

Dean fidgeted a little, looking not quite as sure of himself at this pronouncement. But Dad smiled at him, ruffling his hair fondly. Then he turned back to meet Sam's gaze intently.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I think your present went exactly where it was supposed to."

Sam smiled weakly, realizing that Dad knew who the present had been intended for, but at least he was not angry about where it had ended up. Sam wondered what Dad would have thought if he knew what had prompted him to give the amulet to its current recipient.

The boys headed to bed, but Sam had so much to think about that he didn't think he would ever get to sleep. Dad was still up working on his journal for a while after the boys crawled into bed, leaving the television on for background noise. The muted sound of the television and Dad's calm movements around the room were so familiar to Sam . . . so normal. Despite his racing thoughts, Sam fell asleep within minutes.

In the morning, both boys scurried around getting ready for school. Dean actually seemed excited to go, and Sam really couldn't blame him. Dean was a social kid, and spending the entire break with just Sam and Dad for company had probably been excruciating for him. Sam was excited to go back, too, although for completely different reasons. He enjoyed his classes, although he was smart enough not to let it show too much. Even though he hadn't made any friends in the school, he still looked forward to spending his day learning new things. He grinned, thinking this was probably why Dean called him a geek.

Since Dad was home, he offered to take the boys out to the local diner for breakfast and then drop them off at their respective schools. It was an offer neither boy could refuse. Dad had told them to get whatever they wanted, so both boys ended up ordering too much food. Dean had devoured a stack of pancakes smothered in syrup with a side of eggs and bacon, while Sam chose Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries. The waitress had eyed Dad with disapproval, probably at letting the boys eat so much sugar before school, but Sam was thrilled with the treat, and he knew Dean was, too.

After they had eaten so much they could hardly move, Dad herded them all back into the Impala and headed toward the elementary school, which was closest. Sam almost hated to get out of the car. He felt like he had been part of the team for the first time, and this last week with Dad and Dean had been one of the best times he could remember in his life. He just had a feeling that it had only been a nice break, and now things would get back to normal, Dad and Dean as a team, and Sam as an outsider. He hadn't forgotten the exchanges between his brother and father that Sam had not understood at all, particularly the one about stealing.

"Come on, Sam. I need to get your brother to school before he's late." Dad ruffled Sam's hair. "Try not to let all that sugar have you bouncing off the wall, okay? That would probably not be considered the best parenting technique, but I didn't think it would hurt once."

Sam grinned, shaking off his melancholy thoughts. "It was great, Dad! Thanks!" He opened the back door of the Impala, grabbed his book bag and heaved himself out of the car.

Dean waved energetically as the car pulled away, and Sam wondered idly why sugar had always seemed to affect Dean more than it did him. He shook his head, grinning at the thought of Dean's teachers dealing with his hyper big brother today. Entering the school, he shrugged off the thought and headed to the third grade classroom.

Because of their stop for breakfast this morning, Sam was much later than usual at arriving to school, so most of the other kids were already in the room when he walked in. It seemed they were all gathered together in the corner of the room, involved in a huge argument. Several of his classmates seemed to be talking at once, and whatever the subject was, everyone seemed to be very involved in the topic. He decided it was safer to just ignore it, and headed to his desk to put his book bag down.

"Hey, Sam!"

Sam looked up in surprise. Usually the other kids left him alone, except for the bullies, who took delight in tormenting him. But this wasn't one of the bullies. He found Jenna Patterson standing beside his desk. Jenna was the most popular girl in the class, and Sam thought she was okay for a girl, because she was pretty smart, too. But he didn't remember her ever talking to him before.

"Hi, Jenna."

His response was kind of confused, but Jenna didn't seem to notice. She seemed really worked up about something. "What do _you_ think?"

"About what?" Sam was really confused now. He had apparently walked into the middle of something big.

"Jason says that he just found out that Santa Claus isn't real, and Michael says he is _too_ real. What do you think?"

Sam looked over at the group of kids, startled to find himself the center of attention. His classmates seemed to have divided into two groups, a small group gathered around Jason, while a larger group remained loyally by Michael. All of them looked angry and upset.

Sam thought about his vacation, about asking Dean if Santa was real, and Dean's response. He opened his mouth to tell the waiting group that Santa wasn't real, but that everything else was. He couldn't wait to impart his new knowledge to the other children. Even Jonah, the class bully, was waiting for his response. He opened his mouth to tell them the whole truth, when Jenna's innocent expression derailed him.

He couldn't tell these kids the truth. It would destroy them, if they didn't lock him up for saying anything so stupid. Suddenly he felt so much older than the other third graders. He felt as though he had aged during the last two weeks, and even though he had never had much in common with his classmates, now he felt even further removed from them.

He could never tell anyone what he had found out, not _ever_. His life had changed forever over the Christmas break, and he could never share it with anyone. Dean and Dad were there for him, but they had each other, and he would always feel like an outsider with them. And there was nobody else for him to confide in. Maybe it was time he started to think about keeping a journal of his own. At least then he could tell somebody how he felt about things. In the meantime, the schoolroom was silent as his classmates waited for him to choose sides.

He regarded them thoughtfully for a minute, and then finally spoke. "Seriously, think about it. Could your parents really afford to buy you all those presents you get at Christmas?"

The group around Jason looked a bit doubtful as each child thought about all of the exciting presents they had gotten for Christmas. Michael's loyal group immediately lit up, thinking that this argument definitely proved their beliefs. Suddenly the group all started talking at once as the discussion raged on.

Mrs. Hoffman called the children to their seats, winking at Sam as she did. Sam smiled at her despite his best intentions and wondered if she had noticed that he hadn't actually answered the question. His classmates weren't ready for the answer he had to give, and probably they never would be.

As Mrs. Hoffman called the class to order and began to take attendance, Sam sat in his seat in the middle of the room, surrounded by the other third graders, thinking that he had never felt so alone.

_**Finis**_

_**Thank you all so much for making me feel so welcome in this fandom. Your reviews, favorites and alerts have really made me feel appreciated and made the writing process even more fun! I hope to see you again with my next story (which I should hopefully start posting later tonight)!**_


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